


What comes Before Us, or the Inevitabilities of Cause and Effect

by whittler_of_words



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus Ancestors, Beforus Ancestors Marked With a ", Dream Bubbles, F/F, F/M, Interactive Fiction, M/M, Multi, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narrative casualty insists that there is no such thing as coincidence. Parallels make up the foundation for future exploits and it always turns out that there's a reason behind the most unassuming of things. Some stories are never meant to be repeated except in hushed whispers in the dark and others are never meant to be repeated at all, secreted away in faded ink on rotting paper in a memory of a drawer in a memory of a room in a memory of a world long-gone.</p><p>In other words, who <em>were</em> the Beforus Ancestors?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kankri, Karkat"

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure to read the notes at the end!

There’s a perfectly good excuse as to why Kankri doesn’t notice the stranger until he’s upon him.

He can’t be expected to be paying full attention to his surroundings while trying to deconstruct his latest sermon -- er, lecture -- _educational exposit_ \-- to iron out any weak-points and fill in any gaps he might have missed when expatiating on the importance of noting triggers and any offensive topics to one of the denser humans who have taken up temporary residence in the dream bubbles, so that he might give it again much more easily and effectively in the future if the opportunity so arises.

And then suddenly he finds himself much more horizontal than he’d been two seconds ago.

Kankri rushes to untangle his legs from the stranger’s and remove himself from his ass-first position on the ground, already formulating a talk on the necessities of being aware of and respecting another’s physical space. The stranger beats him to it.

“By the Phosphor’s ever-perky rumble spheres, are you fucking blind? Did you not, perhaps, see me running along in my great fucking hurry, and then decide _not_ to get out of my way after using the brain matter that I’m becoming less sure of existing in the hollow space between your aurical sponges with every second that goes by that you do not apologize to me?!”

Kankri, during this time, has managed to get himself upright again, as had the stranger, and when Kankri tries to look the troll in the face to discern his identity, he finds he has to look up.

And up.

And _up_.

It is in the middle of this process that Kankri comes to the conclusion that he has run into an adult.

An adult that he’s _seen_ before, which only confuses him, because the last time Kankri had seen him Karkat had been _shorter_ than him, not taller, and he also hadn’t been wearing dully shining metal pauldrons over a cloak that fell heavily over his back.

He’d also been alive, not sporting the blank white eyes of the dead, which this look-alike so clearly has.

And Karkat’s face, which Kankri is having a hard time getting over. Kankri scolds himself for staring so openly in a way that might be triggering but finds it impossible to look away. Not-Karkat’s (Kankri doesn’t like using that even in his head because it strikes so close to identity erasure but it’s only in his head, and it’s the best way to describe him, besides) disturbingly familiar eyes widen into an expression of surprise, halting him in the middle of another round of insults that only make him seem more like Kankri’s Dancestor.

“Oh. Are you-” Not-Karkat looks from Kankri’s face to his bright red sweater and then up again to ogle at Kankri’s horns, and then his sweater again. “Holy _shit_ , this is not possible. Huntress drugged my fucking drink again, didn’t she, that _bitch_ -” He cuts off suddenly, looking sharply back down at Kankri almost as if he’d forgotten he was even there. 

The silence that follows is long and increasingly awkward until Kankri clears his throat. “If I may... inquire as to who you are?”

Not-Karkat folded his arms over his chest. “Who do you think I am?”

A guessing game, then. From the tone of his voice Kankri can only assume that Not-Karkat fully expects him to know exactly who he is already. Kankri goes for the most obvious choice first. 

“An off-shoot doomed timeline version of your Alpha self, perhaps, one where he survived into adult-hood by means of either the Game not coming about or being delayed, or even somehow managing to survive for the necessary sweeps through the Game itself, although judging from appearances I would have to go with the former instead of the latter; not to say that your foremost appearance or mannerisms are causing me to form any negative bias as to my opinion of you, although some might say that any bias is inherently negative by definition and therefore something that should be avoided, which I try my best to compensate for by keeping an open mind. If you find me to providing any evidence of bias or prejudice in my speech or behavior please feel free to interrupt at an opportune time. Oh, and I should probably ask if you have any triggers that you wish for me to be aware of so that I do not accidentaly trigger you throughout the course of this conversation.”

Not-Karkat gives him a slightly bewildered stare and then blinks once. “I have absolutely no fucking clue about everything that you just said. Does that count as a trigger?”

“Agnosiophobia? That is a perfectly logical-” Kankri stops short, the full meaning of Not-Karkat’s words catching up to him. “Wait. Did everything I just said really not make sense to you?”

Not-Karkat shrugs. “Nope.”

“Then you’re not one of Karkat’s doomed selves? But that’s impossible, you have to be!”

Not-Karkat twitches slightly, raises an eyebrow, and says slowly, “What’s really impossible is how on Beforus’s pink moon you know my fucking hatch-name.”

Kankri’s hands freeze in the middle of the motions they were making in the air to take in the facts.

One: Not-Karkat had sworn on Beforus, not Alternia.

Two: He is a full-grown adult, meaning he has probably already chosen a take-name.

Three: Therefore, he has to have a hatch-name, which according to his reaction very possibly makes him _Karkat_ -Karkat.

Kankri is starting to get an idea that he hopes for the sake of his own pride is wrong.

“M-my apologies,” Kankri stammers. “I meant no disrespect. If I could ask what your take-name is...?”

The adult troll says, simply, “The Seditionist.”

Well, so much for Kankri’s pride.

“And you are?” The Seditionist asks, one eyebrow back to being raised.

“...Kankri.”

“Kankri...” The Seditionist rolls one of his hands in a “go on” motion. Kankri presses his eyes shut.

“Kankri...Vantas.”

The Seditionist lets out a loud “Ha!” at that, clapping his hands together and causing Kankri to jump with the suddenness of it.

“I fucking knew it! You’re one of mine -- I could _smell_ it on you. Kankri Vantas.” He says the name like he’s tasting it, rolling it around in his mouth. It makes Kankri slightly uncomfortable because, well.

He’s just realized this is _his Ancestor_ he’s talking to.

“You got the shit I left for you, right?” the Seditionist asks, jerking a finger in Kankri’s direction. Kankri is sure that that action is very possibly triggering in some way but is still too dumbfounded to actually be able to call up any reasoning as to why that might be the case. So he answers his question, instead.

“Yes.” He has the small plain box back in the memory of his hive, tucked neatly away in the bottom drawer of his desk. It was given to him on his sixth wriggling day, as was the custom of his society, a custom that Kankri had initially had many misgivings about concerning the attachment of societal norms and social obligations, and the pressure that such an object might place upon any troll unwilling or even too eager to learn of their own Ancestor, which might possibly drive them to obsess over someone they might see as an authoritative figure and strive to become like them in ways that could not in any way be seen as healthy, especially in cases where such an Ancestor might not be the best of role-models -- not to enforce the idea that there is a specific “bad” and a specific “good” that every troll should aim to avoid and achieve, respectively, or otherwise be seen as an undesirable in their community.

Kankri had lasted a whole five minutes before his curiosity had taken over and he’d opened the fucking box.

There are only three objects inside: a nondescript pail, which had left Kankri red in the face and silently wheezing until he’d managed to shove it somewhere into the back of his closet; a captchalogue card containing a double-bladed scythe with startlingly sharp mutant blood-red blades, and a letter written in anonymous black ink that reads, simply:

LIVE YOUR LIFE, MAKE MISTAKES AND LEARN FROM THEM, FUCK SHIT UP AS BEST AS YOU CAN, AND BY GOD *PLEASE* DO NOT MAKE ALL OF MY BULGEFUCKING HARD WORK BE FOR NOTHING.

“Good. I was hoping they would still give it to you.”

“I would rather you have excluded the pail. I appreciate the sentiment -- unless you had intended it as a joke, in which case it was an extremely tasteless one on your part -- however, your lack of sensitivity towards possible nonstandard sexual orientations was very offensive, especially for a celibate identifying individual such as myself.”

“Eh, sorry about that.” The Seditionist scratches at the back of his neck, a small, apologetic smile playing on his lips. “It was mostly Dauntless’s idea. It can be hard to tell her no sometimes.”

“Well.” Kankri sniffs. He did apologize, and he didn’t laugh when learning of Kankri’s celibacy like most people do. “Apology accepted, although I would hope you’ll take this as a lesson for the future.”

“It would kind of be an asshole-ish move of me if I didn’t.” Seditionist shrugs. “But you still haven’t answered my first question.”

“Ah. That would be how I knew your hatch-name? It’s a bit of a complicated story. I didn’t know your hatch-name so much as I know a troll who shares it, who, for all intents and purposes, is essentially you, although, due to circumstances partially brought about by my and other’s actions, he is an entirely separate individual with many key differences, the specifics of which are crucial to the existence of the universe and the continued existence of said universe as we know it. You are already aware that his name is Karkat, but instead of living on Beforus like me and you, he grew up on an alternate version of our planet where violence was practiced far more openly and was necessary to essential survival. Instead of you being my Ancestor, and I your Descendant, due to a deal my friends and I made it came to be that the version of myself on the scratched Beforus, called Alternia, was his Ancestor, and you my Descendant. Is that an acceptable answer?”

“So you’re saying,” Seditionist begins, “that there is another version of me running around here somewhere?”

“Yes. As well as eleven of my friends, and eleven of his friends, who, if the same pattern is going to be followed, you might recognize as someone you knew on Beforus in some way. We tend to have very distinguishable personalities, though, so I would recommend practicing due caution when approaching anyone you feel you recognize.”

“Huh. Anything else I should know?”

“There are a few hornless, oddly-skinned aliens that take residence here sometimes. They’re not overly dangerous, for the most part, and also alive.”

“Sentient?”

“Very.”

“Interesting!” The Seditionist tilts his head to the side. “I am going to ask you a possibly stupid question.”

“Alright.”

Seditionist waits a few moments, looking like he’s turning something over in his mind. “Seeing as how the last thing I remember is dying, I’m going to take a guess here and say that this is the afterlife.”

“You would be correct.”

“What’s the possibility that my friends will be here making complete fucking fools out of themselves?”

Kankri thinks for a moment. “It’s hard to tell. If your friends are my friend’s Ancestors, I would have to say it is mostly certain that they will be around here somewhere.”

“Hmm. That will have to be good enough, I suppose. I think I’ll go looking for them now. How likely is it that I’ll run into you again?”

“It’s hard to say. If you are one who believes in Fate, that would be the best answer I could give.”

“Good thing I don’t, then. I’ll just have to go looking for you myself.” The Seditionist holds out a hand. Kankri deliberates. He really does not like touching people, or, really, people touching him, but...

Kankri takes the Seditionist’s hand, and the adult shakes it firmly, smiling wide.

“Good luck finding your friends.”

“Thanks, kid. Word to the wise: try not to rely on luck if you can help it. She’s a fickle fucking mistress if I’ve ever known one.”

Kankri watches as the Seditionist moves on at a light jog, flipping up the hood of his cloak as he goes.

“Well,” Kankri says to himself, the quiet of the dream bubble enveloping him once again, “that was certainly unexpected.”


	2. Karkat*, John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I would love to see more of Karkat Vantas*, maybe running into John? Yes, I think that this is a thing that will end well.' Suggested by Emiko842.

Time in this place is strange, and it drives Seditionist up the fucking wall.

Mostly because it gives him no frame of reference to be able to tell whether he’s been dead long enough for any of his friends, well, _friend_ , to be dead yet too, except two of them and well, Apostate wasn’t really his friend but it’s all kind of complicated and he- _he just really wants to find his moirail, okay?!_

And maybe yell at his kismesis for being a little bitch and dying first.

...And possibly give Apostate a hug. Y’know. If Seditionist runs into him.

It’s probably really fucked up that he hopes his moirail is dead. Is it fucked up? He’s just decided that it’s fucked up that he doesn’t care that it’s fucked up that he hopes his moirail is dead.

Well if _that_ sentence was a trainwreck from start to finish. Fucking incredible. Good thing there’s another voice he doesn’t recognize calling his hatch-name _yet again_ , except it keeps intruding on his search and also makes him slightly twitchy because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that people knowing your name is never a good thing.

...What the fuck.

No, seriously, _what the actual fuck is he looking at here?_

It looks like a troll. Sort of. Just lighter skin and no horns (unless they’re small enough to hide under his hood) and a fucking ridiculous set of teeth and it’s just. Standing there. Or, _flying there_ would be a more accurate description.

And it came out of _fucking nowhere._

“Aaaaaaaaw, man, I was hoping you’d actually be Karkat this time! I’ve only run into dead ones. You’re definitely the weirdest looking, though!”

Seditionist’s mind draws a complete blank on how to respond to something like that, so his mouth does him a favor and runs for him. “Sorry, I already have a kismesis.”

The alien stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then doubles over laughing. 

“Oh man, isn’t that -- hehe -- isn’t that one of those troll things? Dude! Haha! Don’t worry, I want nothing to do with your weird alien bits.”

Seditionist stares. Hadn’t his Descendant -- God, it’s still so weird to think that he actually just met his Descendant -- talked about aliens? It hadn’t seemed so far-fetched at the time but now it’s just mildly disappointing and also kind of _weird._

Yeah. That’s the word he’s going to go with here.

But the alien doesn’t seem dangerous. Flat teeth, from what he could see when the alien opened his mouth, and blunt nails that will do fuck-all to troll skin. Oddly palepink skin of his own. Coldblood blue eyes instead of blank white ones that Seditionist thinks means he’s still alive and not dead like him. Definitely no horns. No weapons on hand but they could easily be in his Sylladex, and Seditionist covertly presses his arm to his side to make sure that his spare sickle is still strapped to his waist. Never rely on a Sylladex, he’d said countless times before, always keep a weapon on you physically because you never know what could happen and it’s better to be prepared with a small weapon than defenseless with your big one out of reach.

Funny, though, because maybe if he’d remembered to do that he’d still be alive.

Or not. Because time in this place is just so fucking weird.

“Are you sure you’re Karkat?” The alien frowns at him curiously. “Usually he’d be yelling at me by now and you’ve been kind of quiet.”

He’d gotten carried away with his thoughts again, hadn’t he?

God damn it.

“Unless my entire life has been a lie, yes, I’m fucking sure. Just obviously not the one you’re looking for. And you, to my great disappointment, are not the person who _I_ am looking for, so if you would excuse me.”

Seditionist turns to the left where he thinks he can see the beginnings of golden spires rising in the distance. Try changing things up a little. The alien follows him, floating in the air.

“Hehe, you’re Karkat, alright!” Twitch. The alien doesn’t notice. “So... who are you looking for?”

“My moirail.” The alien waits, as if expecting him to share more. Seditionist doesn’t. 

“...Why?”

“Because she’s my moirail? It’s a pretty fucking simple concept to understand and I would like to look for her in peace.” The alien continues to follow him, though, obviously not getting the hint, and Seditionist gives in after a few minutes of silence. “Why, pray tell, are you looking for alternate me?”

“Because we’re bros!” Seditionist raises an eyebrow without turning to look at the alien. “Palhonchos. Friendleaders. Compatramigos. When we meet I am going to give him a fist bump that will be so ironically awesome that Dave will cry. And then we’ll, I don’t know, watch some dream movies or something, and he’ll tell me I have horrible taste and we’ll be hatefriends and it will be awesome.”

Movies, huh? Seditionist never really had much time for movies. 

Why is the alien still talking?

“I don’t know, though. It kind of sucks because I haven’t been able to talk to him or Dave or Rose or Vriska or anything so it’s like, maybe he’s gotten used to being without me now? And I guess that my prank might’ve gone a bit too far and maybe he hates me in that weird troll way now and I don’t know if I’d be okay with that? I mean, he’s a cool dude, and funny and kind of mean in a nice way, and I like him but I don’t want to... Bluh! I don’t know! Alternate Karkat, do you hate me?!” Twitch. There’s not just a little bit of desperation in the alien’s voice, and, surprised, Seditionist stops and turns to the alien fully.

He looks a hell of a lot like a scared kid, to the Seditionist’s eyes.

Shit. Okay. He’s going to have to watch what he says, now.

“I can’t speak for the me you know,” Seditionist says slowly, “but no. I don’t hate you, beyond a _mild and completely platonic_ irritation.” It doesn’t look like that helped the alien at all. Seditionist isn’t really surprised. He sighs. “Look. Sometimes people will have feelings for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m not really an expert on this shit but the best I can tell you is, don’t lead him on. Tell him -- me -- whatever, what you are and aren’t comfortable with and if he doesn’t respect that, kick him in the bulge and move on.” The alien giggles. “If you have a moirail I would suggest you talk it out with them and get your own feelings sorted out first.”

The alien looks more thoughtful and less scared. “I guess Jade and Dave could help me out...” He scratches the back of his neck and then beams a bright, honest grin at the Seditionist. “Haha, I’m sorry, I’m just unloading all of my weird emotional shit on you. About alternate you. Which is... actually kind of weird and a little embarrassing in retrospect?”

Seditionist rolls his eyes. “I can assure you, as long as it doesn’t happen again, it’s fine.”

“You know, you actually aren’t all that--”

The alien disappears.

Just, _poof!_ and gone.

Well. That was a thing that just happened. Dauntless isn’t going to believe any of it. 

If she’s even _here fucking damn it._

Seditionist, as he resumes his search, realizes he hadn’t even gotten the alien’s name.

Oh well. It couldn’t have been that important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to shove as much plot in here as possible but it was kind of difficult because Seditionist and John didn't know each other before now. It was also pretty short because of the same reason. But have some sexual confusion, John. 
> 
> Just a reminder; if you request it has to be something along the lines of "oh can i get Seditionist and Beforus Sollux? :)" Asking for "Seditionist and his moirail" or "Seditionist and Apostate" won't work, it has to be specific
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	3. Karkat*, Karkat, Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blind, alive Sollux and Karkat meeting the Seditionist, requested by sabaku_no_garra_ai and Isis_the_Sphinx.

Being blind sucks. After a while of stumbling around the dream bubbles, this is the completely _unexpected_ conclusion Sollux has come to.

And then he found KK. Or, more accurately, he tripped and fell over KK.

And KK proceeded to bitch and moan while simultaneously managing to be almost smothering in his concern, which would be hilarious if it weren’t also fucking annoying and it wasn’t Sollux that was having to suffer through it. 

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

“I don’t know,” Sollux says. It feels like open space around him, so he keeps walking forward. “Let’s find out. Or even better you could, I dunno, go somewhere else.”

“I’m coming with you.” Sollux groans. “Don’t be such a self-centered prick. All of this gold just makes me nervous, okay? It wasn’t exactly a fun experience the last time I was in a place like this.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t know,” Sollux deadpans. He bumps a foot on something and quickly adjusts his course a bit to the left. “What with my disability and all. Way to be sensitive, KK.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Just do not.”

“Moody today, are we?” Sollux can feel Karkat hovering just behind his left shoulder, there but also not. It’s annoying and oddly reassuring at the same time.

“What did I just say, fucktard? Did you just completely ignore the words that came out of my mouth not ten seconds ago? Because if you missed them I will gladly repeat them: _do. Not. Start._ ”

Are those...

“I already have to worry enough about running into people who, imagine this! Are actually important and relevant to the most recent turn of events in the bullshit that is my life and I would be most appreciative if you would get it through your thick skull that those people are not you.”

...footsteps that Sollux is hearing?

“What have you even been doing, besides running around being completely fucking useless?”

Yep. Definitely footsteps. Maybe he should tell KK.

“Oh, wait, I just answered my own fucking question, didn’t I? I don’t even understand how it’s possible for you to _holy SHIT--_ ”

Too late. Ehehehe.

Why is KK standing in front of him? Who is it? Sigh. He’ll probably have to _ask_. 

Lame.

“Who are you?” Karkat snaps, and if Sollux’s interest wasn’t piqued before it sure is now. No insults? It must be serious, then. “What are you doing here?”

“Oooh,” the other troll goes, and then with the voice of someone who just discovered something, “ _Ooooooh,_ ” and it instantly sets Sollux on edge. The voice is too deep, too low, everything about it screams _adult_ and Sollux knows why Karkat is so short with them. “You must be the _Karkat_ I’ve been hearing so much about.”

There’s something about that voice. It nags at Sollux in an odd way.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, I’m dead,” the adult says, sounding amused. “That’s one reason. And trying to find my moirail, and maybe my fucking kismesis. You can put that sickle away, you know. I’m not going to attack you.”

“Haha, how about _no_ ,” Karkat says, and Sollux has to agree with him. “Like I would leave myself defenseless around an _adult_. I wasn’t hatched yesterday, turdmunch.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” the adult says, ignoring the insult completely. “But okay. Hm. Your stance is a bit loose, though, you might want to work on that.”

Did the adult really just give KK fighting tips? Is that really a thing that just happened right now.

“And the balance on those things are all wrong for you,” he continues. “If you try something with a little more reach you might actually be able to fight well for once.”

This dude is insane.

“You,” Karkat says, “are insane.”

“No, I’m dead, weren’t you listening? And you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“ _What.”_

“Well, there was Kankri.” The way the adult speaks sounds like someone reading off of a list. “And then an alien. That one was fucking weird. The words he used to describe you were something along the lines of ‘best bro’ and ‘friendleader’ and, my personal favorite, ‘compatramigo’. Does that sound familiar?”

“You met John.”

There is the sound of a shrug. Sollux does not know how a shrug can have a sound, but the other troll manages it somehow. “I didn’t catch his name, but pretty much.” There’s a moment of silence on the adult’s end. “Do you want in any of his quadrants?”

What.

“Oh. My God.” Karkat sounds an odd mix between baffled and mortified. “That’s none of your fucking business! If I was I wouldn’t tell a complete fucking stranger about it!” Yeah, you tell him, KK. Nosy asshole.

“Oh, I’m not so sure about the complete fucking stranger part.” The adult sounds smug. No, not smug. Like there’s a joke somewhere and they haven’t seen it yet.

Oh.

His voice. Sollux has just realized why his voice sounds so familiar.

_Oh._

Sollux can’t help it. He bursts out into uncontrollable, sputtering laughter. He’s probably spitting all over the place. He really, really doesn’t care.

“What the _fuck_ , Sollux!”

“Oh my God.” Sollux is wheezing. Holy shit. “Oh my God, KK, I am _blind_ and I realized it before you. You are so stupid.”

“What the fuck are you spazzing out over now?!”

“Just _look_ , you globesmacking idiot.”

There is a pause. Sollux thinks KK looks.

\- -

Karkat looks. 

He’s an adult. An adult with a hood drawn over his head and a weird cloak and he met both Kankri and John and didn’t eviscerate them, _John_ , which is really fucking weird and Karkat is trying very hard to pretend he’s not grateful for that fact. The adult stands easily, towering over Karkat and Sollux both, but Karkat keeps his sickles at the ready just in case he tries anything funny. And by funny, he means try to kill them. He will not stand for that shit.

Karkat doesn’t see what’s causing Sollux to nearly double over.

“I don’t get it.”

“Pffft, here. Let me make it easy for you.” Sollux clears his throat. “Hey, Karkat!”

“What--”

“At your fucking service. Although most people call me the Seditionist.”

The adult lowers his hood.

No. Fucking. Way.

Sollux is snickering again.

“No, hell no, I refuse to believe it,” Karkat says. “I refuse to believe that there is another me out there who managed to survive long enough to become an adult. No way.”

“Well, If we’re going to be technical,” other-him says, “ _you_ would be other me. Since I came first.”

Seditionist’s smile is entirely too sharp at the edges. Karkat gets the feeling that this him has been spending too much time with a Terezi. 

And Karkat realizes.

This is another him who lived long enough to take a Title. This is another him who, if he heard correctly, which he knows he did, has a moirail. And a kismesis. This is a him who _did_ things before managing to get himself killed, probably in some vaguely sacrificial way. This is who he would’ve been, in a different timeline. It’s... kind of intimidating, if he’s going to be honest with himself.

Karkat puts the sickles away.

“What’s with the weird take-name?” Karkat asks, and Seditionist raises an eyebrow. “It’s eleven letters, not eight.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” Seditionist scratches at his cheek in a completely unconcerned manner. “I thought, why limit myself to eight letter descriptors when I could just make things easier and go with whatever fits best? It’s not that unusual.” Oh, no. Karkat is going to lay into _this_ asshole.

“Yeah, why not! It’s not like you’d be shitting all over centuries of tradition in the process!”

“I’m not exactly _traditional_ in the first place, am I?” And oh crap, Karkat can tell he’s struck a nerve. “There’s a fine line between tradition and repression, kid, and if someone’s not there to pull people’s snot-nosed heads out of their judgemental asses then what the fuck is even the _point_?” The way the Seditionist looks at him is like someone who’s grown used to using their eyes as a weapon.

Huh. Maybe Karkat can teach himself how to do that. As in he-himself, not other-older-him-himself because that would be weak and not cool at all and would also probably be an embarrassing endeavor as a whole. Especially seeing as how Karkat is still alive and actually has _pupils._

“Oh my God,” Sollux says from behind Karkat, sounding bored. “It’s like double the self-righteous anger and I didn’t even get a consolation prize. Someone kill me again, please. Where is AA when I need her.”

“If you don’t like it so much then maybe you should _fuck off_ , Captor.”

“What do you think I was trying to do before Bigger Weirder You came along?”

“Hopefully it was trying to find something to replace those hideous eyepatches.”

“Hey, fuck you KK, even if I can’t see them these eyepatches are fucking boss. You’re just jealous you don’t have my sweet gear.”

“Jealous of the blind duality-obsessed lithping lame-o who can’t even lisp?

Sollux sighs, shakes his head slowly. “If you would stop bringing up all of my disabilities, especially the ones that are, oh, _your fault_ , please? Thank you and go fuck yourself, asshole.

“Hey! Our lives were in fucking danger and if it weren’t for me we both would probably be _dead_ , you ungrateful piece of shit.”

“Been there, done that. Don’t worry KK, it’s only a matter of time before it’s your turn, too.”

“What the fuck, why would I be _looking forward_ to dying?! You spent way too much fucking time with Aradia.”

“Yeah, yeah. So is it just me or did Bigger You just ditch us?”

The place where Seditionist had been standing before is empty.

Well. 

“Crap.”

“Seriously, KK, how could you _not notice_?”

“At least I’m decent enough to be listening to who I’m talking to instead of whatever the fuck you were doing just now.”

“Oh, you mean paying attention to my surroundings? Yes, that is just too difficult a thing for our glorious leader to do.”

“You shut your fucking mouth, Captor.”

\- -

Oh my God.

Wriggler-him is _hilarious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (you all expected them to hatemack)
> 
> (didn't you)
> 
> Yeah, I mashed two requests for continuities sake. Just a notice that I might do more things like that. 
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	4. Terezi*, Nepeta*, Karkat*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terezi*, Nepeta*, and Seditionist, requested by Emiko842. In which some quadrant shenanigans are finally put to light.

Dauntless, when she finds Huntress, can’t help but cry. She knows the sound well; a sustained, softly fluctuating high C. Huntress doesn’t hesitate, gathering Dauntless into a Wind-Rustled Grass hug, careful not to hug too tightly, and says,

“Nooo Dauntless don’t cry! It’s okay, I’m okay, see? So no crying!”

“You’re dead,” Dauntless says, wiping her teal tears from her face. She wonders, sometimes, if her own skin has no sound or if she simply stopped being able to hear it a long time ago. “Huntress, I’m positive that is the opposite of being okay. How can you stand to be near me, chica?”

Huntress frowns at her. “I knew you would blame yourself. Ugh.” She rubs her hands over her face. “It was my fault. Okay? I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I just wanted you two to stop because if either of you had died I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself and Karkitty would’ve been sad and he’s just so _annoying_ when he sulks. I just.” She sighs hard. “Don’t blame yourself. Please?”

“It’s a little late for that, Coolcat. Kind of like us, huh?” Huntress laughs a little. Dauntless marks it down as a success.

“How was... Apostate? After I...”

_grape over her hands her fingers no matter how hard she scrubs she can still hear the glass_

She doesn’t dance around it.

“He asked me to kill him. So I did. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Huntress doesn’t look sad, or angry. Just shell-shocked. Dauntless takes it as a confirmation for something she’s already long suspected. “Oh. But he. He was...”

“He totally thought it was the least rad thing he ever did.” Dauntless raises her chin a little, baring her neck, a redundant gesture seeing as how she’s already dead. “It was the least rad thing _I’ve_ ever done in my wicked sick life. Hella understandable for you to hold that against me, man.”

“Oh, no...” Huntress still looks distant. “It’s, um. It’s fine. Can I ask.” She hesitates a little, drawing in a breath before pressing her mouth closed and slowly breathing out again. “How _he_ was? After?”

Dauntless _really_ does not want to have this conversation. This conversation is steadily falling towards the unradical. But. 

She owes it to Nepeta to tell her the truth.

“He was very sad,” Dauntless says slowly. “Didn’t talk to any punkasses -- anyone. Shut himself up. Died only right before I did.”

“H-” She stops the question before she can finish it. How long, how he went, she doesn’t really want to know the answer to any of those. Dauntless decides to take a risk. She lays a hand on the Fire-Crackle of Huntress’ hide-covered shoulder and squeezes. 

Huntress takes another breath, obviously trying not to cry, and smiles. “I bet Catfish was sad, huh? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“Nah. Your little flushedmate figured I wasn’t the one who did the bad.” Dauntless can hear her own voice grow cold. She lets it. “But she changed _her_ title to Desolate and banished her. Good fuckin’ riddance. But hey!” Dauntless grins. “You wouldn’t _believe_ some of the shit people got up to!” She leans in close, whispers, “Annalist and Her Benevolence _pailed_ , yo!”

Huntress makes a little _meep_ of surprise, reeling back to give Dauntless a shocked look. “But! I thought he? _What?!_ ”

“I knooooow! He like, changed his mind about it or somethin’? As far as I know it was only once, but alas, I am but a lowly peasant in the presence of someone such as yourself. I have no way of knowing for sure, my most radical lady.” Dauntless does a clumsy little bow. Huntress snorts into a hand, smacking the back of Dauntless’s head, being careful to avoid her horns. Dauntless, still bowing, looks up and smiles. “Oh, girly. The developing relationships I could tell you about. Are you ready for this shit?”

“Oh.” Huntress is smiling. “Hell.” Her eyes are shining. “Fucking _yes_!” She jumps up and down and squeals.

They spend the next however-long talking about shipping, basically. And it’s fuckin’ amazing.

-

“But really? I thought he would’ve gotten together with Vertan!”

“Nope! ‘Parently he was too much of a candy-assed chicken shit to fuckin’ deal with their gender shit. After the third time he used the wrong name _and_ the wrong pronoun, I whooped that boy’s ass ‘til he was black and blue. Literally. Vertan was too good for him anyway.”

“Aw. They would’ve been so good together, though! That’s good for Vertan, at least.”

“Haha, amen to that, Coolcat.”

Huntress’s chuffed smile turns into a scowl so quickly and suddenly that Dauntless know who she’s smelling before he even speaks.

“How is it,” Seditionist says, “that I’ve been looking for you two for-fucking- _ever_ , toiling away my special-snowflake sweat and blood, and you two are just idly chatting over _tea_?” 

As terrifying as he could get when he was angry, Seditionist was never good at faking anger, and it’s an obvious giveaway even before Dauntless places the memory of the tea down on the table, stands, and turns around to see the smile on his face.

“Nice to see you too, _Karkitty_.” Huntress smiles at Seditionist slyly. Some true anger bleeds into his expression then, as a narrowing of the eyes, a sudden slight tightness of his mouth. He strides with heavy intent towards Huntress and for a single, horrible moment, Dauntless can’t tell if he’s planning to strike her.

Until he grabs the sides of Huntress’s face and leans down for a rough, toothy kiss. Dauntless chides herself silently while trying not to laugh; she knows her moirail better than that.

Speaking of.

“Oh, dear, dear moirail of mine.” Seditionist stiffens. Huntress snickers into his mouth. “My _palest_ diamond. My starsweet. Sugartits. A moment please.” He detaches himself from Huntress. Oh so warily, he walks over to where Dauntless waits with a smile on her face.

She really, really missed him. So of course, she does the first thing that comes to mind.

“Ow!” 

Dauntless tugs Seditionist down to lay a kiss over where she slapped his cheek. “It’s what you get for skipping out on me so early in the game, babe.”

“It’s not like I was going out of my way to get myself killed. It just _happened_ ,” he grumbles. He envelops her in a hug, letting her slide her hands under his cloak and shirt, and the Low Cracked-Voice Humming she thought she’d never hear again, that melody she was so terrified of forgetting and was never the same no matter how many times she sung it to herself after he was gone, the sound of his skin; it’s like leaving for a long trip and realizing you’d forgotten something, and having just enough time to go back and get it and suddenly everything is alright.

“Idiot,” she says, and he makes a noise of agreement. There’s a gagging sound from behind Seditionist. He flips Huntress off, being careful not to let go of Dauntless in the meanwhile. 

“You should’ve been more careful,” Seditionist scolds, and Dauntless doesn’t know how he _knows_ , but he does. “I know you hate being coddled because of your condition but Dauntless, come _on_ , there’s a difference between coddling and taking appropriate God damn precautions.”

“You’re putting a damper on my cool, Sed. ‘S not chill. It was gonna happen sooner or later, sense of touch or no.”

“How long?” he asks, and Dauntless doesn’t answer. “How long did you manage to keep yourself alive for, D? I bet you died doing one of those _stupid_ stunts.”

“Uh... Hella?”

“ _Terezi._ ”

“A couple’a sweeps, I don’t know. At least I died in fuckin’ style. _Looo_ ser.”

His fingers stroking through her hair is a low, resounding bass. That shit will put a girl to sleep in no time.

“Authority Fucking Dauntless. Can you _not_ , please.”

“Sorry. Shit’s messed up, I know. But come on, boss! We’re dead as doornails and we’re still around, fuckin’ creepy as shit white eyes and all. What other cray-cray things you think can happen around here? The _possibilities_ , man.”

“Actually, some pretty ‘cray-cray’ things. Guess who I met?”

“Tell me.”

“An alien.”

“Whaaaat?”

“Yep. _And_ I met my Descendant.”

“Holy _shit._ ”

“ _And--_ ”

“Dude oh my God what even else?”

“ _Alternate universe wriggler me,_ who is still alive.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, I need to find this little you and squish his little cheeks.”

“D, no. Let wriggler me be free and pure while he can.”

“I will defile wriggler you with my weird broken hands. I never got to see you when you were a wriggler, bro, don’t deprive me of my one last chance.”

“Pfft, sure, if you can even get near him. He was fucking _twitchy_ around me. There was one of his friends with him, though, he seemed pretty chill. I think he was blind?”

Dauntless has a thought.

It is a very interesting, exciting, _radical_ thought.

“Hey, duuuude, do you think my Descendant is here too?”

“Probably. And Pet probably has hers around here, somewhere. Just what I need, _more_ cat girls running around.”

“You know Karkitty, you sure are smug fur being such a hypurrcrite!”

“Sick fire, Princess.”

“Lame comeback, foxdung!”

“ _Totally--_ ”

“Shush.” Dauntless smacks a hand over Seditionist’s mouth. “No hatemacking now. Just hugs. Shhhhhhh!” When Dauntless opens up an arm, Seditionist grumbles again, but doesn’t protest. 

Good. Otherwise she would’ve had to slap the punk. (Again.)

Huntress slides into her place in the hug, taking extra care not to poke her claws into Dauntless and taking care _to_ poke her claws into Seditionist.

It’s almost funny. It _is_ funny, actually, because everyone Dauntless knows is dead, including herself, and she’s happier than she’s been in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this. I've been waiting for this :D In case it wasn't clear in the text, Dauntless has no sense of touch, and compensates for that by hearing touch. Pretty neat, huh?
> 
> Do Huntress and Seditionist only use petnames to annoy the fuck out of eachother? Yes. Yes they do.
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	5. The Condesce, Feferi*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beforus Feferi and Condesce, requested by Thus. In which the Condesce receives a grim reminder.

When you get to be as old as the Condesce, you learn patience. So that’s what she does.

She waits.

She’s no longer sure what for. But she’s learned that things always come together, eventually. If she wants to wait, she will wait, and the universe will simply have to part in her wake.

But after the hundredth time going through the same batch of boring memories, she could _krill_ for an amusing distraction right about now. 

It feels like centuries before one comes along, with familiar high arcing horns and a dress stained with every color of the spectrum and then some. Her feet, the Condesce notes, are bare. Her eyes are white.

“Oh,” the familiar stranger says. “Oh, I never forget a face. Meenah, you’ve grown so much.”

“I don’t know who the shell you are,” the Condesce can’t help but snap. Only a few people ever knew her hatch-name, and they are long, long dead, and this troll definitely did not belong to that group of few. “You shoald let minnow before I start gettin’ impatient.”

“You don’t remember.” The stranger holds her hands up in a gesture of peace. “Feferi Peixes, take-name of Her Benevolent Phosphorescence. Your Ancestor.”

The Condesce laughs.

“You got the wrong troll, then. I ain’t neva had an Ancestor, gilly.”

The Phosphor tilts her head slightly to the side, considering. “No. I suppose you haven’t.” She brushes a long strand of hair from her face. “But you have changed.”

“Don’t sea how I could’ve changed if you neva knew me in the first place.”

“I can still see the Meenah I knew under your skin, as short a time as I knew her before she fled her duty. She’s buried deep.”

“Her _Benevolent Phosphorescence._ ” Condesce snaps her teeth smartly in a smile. “The fuck kinda take-name is that for an Empress?”

“A good one. It’s a reminder to me of what I should aim to do, for those who seek my guidance and trust in my council. To be benevolent, and to be a light for those stranded in the dark.”

The Condesce mimes gagging. “Sentimental carp, nofin else, gilly. How’d you even become an Empress, weak as that? Shoalda picked somefin that’d get you rayspect.”

“Tell me what that would have been, Meenah.”

“That’s _Her Imperious Condescension_ to you, gill, and it’d serve you right to call me such.”

“My apologies.” Phosphor tilts her head in a bow, and the correctness of it almost takes Condesce by surprise. Bowing your head forward is nothing more than a thinly concealed (or horribly misinformed) threat, with the aggressive nature of most troll’s horns. This, how she tilts her head to the side, hoods her eyes; this is the way it’s supposed to be, the way it _was_. It’s the proper form of respect.

Condesce had almost forgotten.

“Her Imperious Condescension.” Phosphor says the name like she’s tasting it on her tongue. “Condesce. Perhaps a bit iniquitous, for my tastes. What does that name remind you of?”

“None of your business, gill.”

“I wonder.”

“What aboat?”

“How much of my business it is.” Phosphor’s eyes flash with a bit of a challenge, as blank as they are. “You were a ruler. Still are, perhaps. How many people have you influenced? What did they take away from seeing you, from learning who you were? Who you are? Condesce, who _are_ you, if not the Meenah that I remember?”

Condesce thinks for a moment. 

“You got a lot’a nerve, gilly,” Condesce says, more of a whisper than anything else. “But I guess it’s a little finny.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Just kinda weird to meet another one’a me without the tyrayan fightin’ instinct.”

“Fighting instinct? I wasn’t aware there was such a thing.”

“There’s _naut_ ,” Condesce grins. “Or at least there wasn’t when I was hatched. I been around long enough that I’m the rayson there’s a fighting instinct amongst us fuchsia bloods in the _first_ place, gillfrond.”

Phosphor hisses slightly between gritted teeth, and that’s the moment Condesce knows she understands.

“ _Tyrant,_ ” Phosphor hisses.

“Come on, you can do betta than that.” Condesce feels out the hot-cold touch of her Strife Specibus, her 2x3dent an invisible, metal tingling in her palms, and there’s the slight smell of ozone and an iron tang on her tongue as it decaptchalogues. She twirls it twice, nothing more than a showy gesture, and leans it against her shoulder. Phosphor watches coldly.

“You are an arrogant fool.”

“I’m alive, gill. And you’re not. Looks like I win.”

“That may be so, but which one of us holds the advantage has yet to be seen.”

Something in Condesce’s chest _pulses_ , and she chokes on it. Her lungs are working, but the breath won’t come, and it doesn’t start again until she’s shaking on her knees, her 2x3dent left gleaming on the floor. She’s a seadweller, and an old one at that, but even she can’t hold her breath forever. She can feel her heart skittering, uncertain whether to keep beating or to give out, and Condesce snarls.

“If you’re gonna krill me, _do it_ , you beach.”

“No.” Phosphor begins to walk closer. Condesce finds it impossible to move. “Death would only be a kindness I am afraid you don’t deserve. Not yet.” It’s only now that Phosphor decaptchalogues her weapon. _Weapons_. Two small daggers, both in the shape of one end of Condesce’s own 2x3dent. Phosphor has reduced Condesce to, to _this_ , and she hadn’t even used a real weapon yet. 

Condesce expects Phosphor to maim her, to do something violent with the daggers, maybe to take her eyes or her tongue. 

Phosphor steps behind Condesce, and begins to cut out the knots in her hair. 

“Water you doing?!” Condesce strains against nothing. She still can’t move. “What the shell!” Phosphor says nothing. She hums. She does something to Condesce’s hair that Condesce can’t see, continues doing it no matter how much Condesce snarls and threatens and tries to reach for her weapon, for her powers. 

After what feels like hours, Phosphor finally steps away, and Condesce can move again.

Her hair--

Her hair is in a braid.

Two long, long braids, down her back, curling down onto the floor when she stands. But there is still something heavy there, and when Condesce reaches up, she finds the daggers tucked into the thickest parts of the braids just where they begin. They are deadly, wickedly, delicately sharp.

“Why are you givin’ me these?” Condesce asks warily. It’s a strange feeling for her, to be wary again after all this time. It reminds her of why she started killing her Descendants early in the first place. “Kind of a useless gift, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Phosphor says. “And they’re not a gift. I’m giving them to you as a reminder that you can change. I don’t need them; ghosts have no need for knives.”

“Water boat the braids?”

“That,” Phosphor says, “was for me, gilly. You can untie them, if you wish.”

Phosphor leaves. Her bare feet are brown with dirt, her dress is stained with mud where it trails on the ground, and she walks with the grace of Life and death. Her bared back is a target that the Condesce would not dare to strike.

Her Imperious Condescension does not take out the braids. Her hair is only let down when the bubbles of memories have long passed behind her empty ship, when the bands have rotted, when every individual strand escapes from the pattern on its own account. 

She keeps the daggers in her Sylladex, and never quite forgets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun, i have to admit. 
> 
> Also, someone else is doing something with the Beforus Ancestors, it's really neat, you should go [check it out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1287193)! :D
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	6. Kankri, Kanaya*, Eridan*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri, Kanaya*, and Eridan*, requested by bluh. In which Kankri eavesdrops on a conversation about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to [thescyfychannel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scyth3g1rl/pseuds/thescyfychannel) for helping me out with a lot of the Titles!

Kankri is walking, minding his own business, when he finds them.

They don’t notice him at first. They sit at a memory of a table, facing each other, and it’s only a few moments after Kankri stumbles upon them that he realizes who they are and why they’re so familiar.

Those are Porrim’s horns. And Cronus’s.

These are their Ancestors.

Any thoughts of walking away or introducing himself are blown out of the metaphorical water when he realizes this fact. It’s unthinkable for him to just _leave_ , and-- these are _Porrim’s_ and _Cronus’s_ Ancestors.

They’re talking. Maybe, if he listens in, he can learn a little of the logic behind the way his own friends operate. He walks closer, being careful to be quiet. The trolls do not notice him.

“...not know why you’re asking me this.” Porrim’s Ancestor. She’s facing away from Kankri. Her voice is quiet, almost inaudible, and she has the slight, ever-present glow of a Rainbow Drinker.

“You have a unique perspective,” Cronus’s Ancestor says. Kankri can see the hint of the frame of glasses on his face. “A unique perspective on a series of events that, I shouldn’t have to remind you, affected the Phosphor -- and therefore me -- personally.”

Porrim’s Ancestor flinches.

“No. You didn’t need to remind me. I haven’t forgotten.”

“ _So_ , just because we’re dead doesn’t mean I can’t do my fucking job. So I’m going to do my fucking job even if it kills me. Again!” He scrambles furiously to shuffle through the sheaf of papers in front of him, and then lifts the pen in his hand to a page. “Now tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

“You know what happened.” The troll’s voice is plaintive. “Please.”

“No,” Cronus’s Ancestor says sweetly. “Now, you can either tell me, and I’ll go on my way, or I can wait around until the right memory comes along and we can watch it together. Which would you prefer?”

Porrim’s Ancestor draws in a breath. And then a few more. Kankri is starting to think that maybe he’s too far away to hear what she’s saying, until she speaks again. “I don’t know what perspective you want from me, Annalist. I was a fool. A terrible, disgusting fool, and because of that, people lost their lives.” Her voice lowers to a mutter. “People who didn’t deserve to die, no matter how I felt about them.”

“Keep going.” Cronus’s Ancestor -- Annalist? -- scribbles feverishly on the paper, occasionally pushing up his glasses as they slide down his face.

“I met-- I met _her_ when I came into her town looking for business. I went by the Clothier, back then. I didn’t hate her instantly. But every day she would waltz into where I’d set up shop, as if she owned the place, constantly _touching_ everything. 

“And then I met _him_.”

She pauses for a moment, her breath hitching. She continues on before the silence can stretch out again.

“Him, I hated from the moment I saw him. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop. I should’ve turned him down, he didn’t know, I should’ve ignored him, should’ve stopped--”

The troll devolves into unintelligible babbling, and Kankri realizes with a slight feeling of nausea that Porrim’s Ancestor... isn’t all there.

“Desolate,” Annalist says, but either she ignores him, or she can’t hear him. “ _Desolate_ , shit-- hey!” He slaps the pen onto the table directly in front of her, and she jumps. “What the hell!”

“It was my fault,” she says. 

“Don’t fucking scare me like that!”

“My fault.”

“Desolate?”

“My--”

“Cut it out!”

She flinches again at the loudness of his voice, shudders, and chokes down a sob.

“He’s dead,” she whispers. “Because of me. And so is she, by proxy, she didn’t deserve to die, Huntress was innocent of it all. Farriery lost everything he had, Phosphor lost her matesprit, and, Seditionist, oh _God_.”

Seditionist. Somehow it doesn’t surprise Kankri that Porrim’s Ancestor is connected to his, in some way, but with the context he has...

Some part of him is very afraid to find out how.

“I hurt so many people. And all because I was such a black fucking _slut_ ,” she spits. The slur takes Kankri by surprise, almost more than the venom in her voice does. “So many people dead, Kanaya, and all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, you had to fuck everyone who showed the slightest interest, you _whore_ \--”

“Desolate, stop.”

She talks over him.

“--and you would have taken advantage of _Hireling_ , too, ooh I bet you would have, after all that she did for you--”

“Come on, stop, get ahold of yourself.”

“--teal and grape, such ugly ugly colors, you wore them on a dress once but nobody noticed, nobody at all--”

“Stop!” Annalist leans over the table to shake Desolate’s shoulders, and she cuts off suddenly, yanking away from his touch like it burned her. Annalist jerks back his hands.

“Don’t touch me!” Desolate draws in on herself, arms tightening around her middle. “Don’t.” Her voice grows small. “Please.”

Annalist nods slowly, and sits back down like if he isn’t careful, the shivering troll in front of him will break. After a few moments of silence, he picks up the pen again, and hesitantly brings it back to the paper.

“...What happened after?” he asks softly. It’s vastly different from how he was talking to her before. “After your banishment? No one knows but you. I would really like to know.”

“Nothing,” she says after a moment, her voice hollow. “Nothing at all.” The Annalist doesn’t believe her, or at least Kankri doesn’t think he does; he taps the end of the pen against the paper for a few moments, not taking his eyes off of Desolate, who stares down at the table in front of her.

“Alright,” he finally says, still in that same, soft voice. “Alright. Thank you. You did great.” He cards a hand through his hair and sighs, much more irritated-sounding than he’d been seconds before, and says loudly, “Come out, you brat, I know you’re there. Fucking terrible at hiding!”

Kankri freezes.

Annalist turns around, and when he sees Kankri, his expression of irritation turns into one of surprise and then one of slight panic. “Shit.” He glances quickly between Desolate and Kankri.

And then she looks up.

When she sees Kankri, a look comes across her face that could only be described as pure, consternated fear.

Crap. Shit. Kankri has been caught. And for something so embarrassing as _eavesdropping._

“I-- I’m sorry, how incredibly rude of me, I shouldn’t have been listening to your conversation like that but you reminded me of my friends, Porrim and Cronus, who you look very similar to, although I suppose that is to be expected considering-- oh, I am not explaining this very well, am I? And I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m--”

“Shut _up,_ ” Annalist hisses, cutting off Kankri’s embarrassed rambling, and he blinks. Desolate stands suddenly.

“Sorry,” she says. “Sorry, sorry, have to go, have to--” She almost trips in her haste to free herself from the table, but rights herself before she can fall. “Have to g-go, sorry, terribly sorry, have to go, sorry!” Her hands are drawn into tight, shaking fists around her stomach, which is, is that _green_ on her dress? Too random to be a purposeful pattern, shining oddly in the light, but Desolate turns away before Kankri can identify it. She stumbles in the opposite direction of Kankri, still talking, almost hysterically, and Kankri can barely identify the words. “Sorry, sorry, so sorry, so so sorry.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Annalist curses as Desolate walks further away, and barely spares Kankri a second glance before running after Desolate, beginning a chant of his own. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit--”

Kankri frowns at the suddenly empty table, paper and pen left abandoned with scrawls of purple ink stained into the pages. He considers going after them for a moment, to return the Annalist’s papers, or to introduce himself more properly and to clear up any misconceptions about him they might have developed, but--

After everything he had just heard...

Maybe he should try to say hello to Porrim and see how she’s doing again, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an emoticon I really want to use for this chapter, but I think I'll save it until a more proper time.
> 
> Did you know short chapters are great? Short chapters are fucking _amazing_ , hopefully I can keep up the pace I've been going at :D
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	7. Aradia*, Karkat*, Damara, Aradia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damara, Aradia*,Karkat* and Aradia, requested by Inferno427. In which an Ancestor meets her Descendant, and Seditionist realizes that some ghost stories are true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hover over text for a translation

Bell-Bringer!

Is!

Excited!!

Well, she’s _always_ excited. Even the most common of things can be exciting if you look hard enough, but _this_?

She’s already like, a total Old Things addict. Old Things were _her_ thing when she was topside. And now, there is history all around her.

_Literally._

_It’s fucking amazing._

Who knew that being dead would be so gratifying? She certainly didn’t! Apparently there was nothing for her to be afraid of when it comes to death, after all.

So much to do, and so much time to do it in. She thinks these changing landscapes are supposed to be memories? She’s come across a few of her own, at least. But if so, then whose memories are they, the ones that aren’t hers? What are these places called? Who built them? How were they built? What purpose do/did they serve? How long ago were they constructed in the chronology of the rememberer’s life? Why is there sometimes a green moon in the sky instead of the pink one? Is there anyone else here besides her, or are these all just residual memories from ghosts who have long moved on, _or_ is this perhaps just a fabricated reality of some sort? But then, who would’ve created it, and for what purpose?

Who’s _this_ chick?

“You look familiar,” Bell-Bringer says. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

我々は同じである。私たち二人の間、” the younger, familiar looking troll says. “我々は全力をオルガスムに達するものとします。”

_Oh._

Well. 

Two can play at that game. 

“நாம் சந்தித்தது இல்லை என்பதில் உறுதியாக இருக்கிறீர்களா? " Bell-Bringer asks.  “நான் Bell-Bringer. இருக்கிறேன். நீ யார்?”

The young troll looks bewildered. 

“どのような。”

”ஆனால் நான் வேறு எங்கே என்று எனக்கு தெரியாது ...”

Wait. 

Her horns. 

And -- and her face, the shape of it, no wonder she looks so familiar-- 

_Oh my God._

“நீ என் சந்ததி தான்!” Bell-Bringer says. This is so. Cool!  “வாருங்கள், உங்கள் பெயர் சொல்ல!”

”やめてください、” her Descendant says, scowling. ”分かりません。”

“Not until you start playing nice,” Bell-Bringer says, grinning. Her Descendant narrows her eyes.

“Bell-Bringer?” She asks suspiciously, in a thick accent. Bell-Bringer nods enthusiastically. After another few moments of careful consideration, her Descendant breaks out into a wide, genuine smile. “Your gift.” She brings a hand up to the ornamental hair clip in her hair, which pulls it up into a high bun. “I like. Is very pretty. Many thanks. I am Damara Megido.” 

“What a nice name. I’m glad you liked it!” 

“You very strange,” Damara says. Bell-Bringer laughs. 

“That wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.” Damara nods in what Bell-Bringer thinks is understanding. “Hey, can you tell me where we are?” 

“Dream bubble. For sleeping dead. Made of memories.” 

“Oooooh,” Bell-Bringer says, not just a hint of excited wonder in her voice. So she was right, then! “Are we the only ones here?” 

Damara opens her mouth to answer, but another distant, approaching voice interrupts. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help? I promise it’d be a lot easier with me!”

Holy. Holy crap. She recognizes that voice. It’s as familiar as her own, because, well. 

It is her own? Question mark? 

She needs to see this. 

Peering around her Descendant, Bell-Bringer catches sight of-- 

Oh. 

Herself. 

0U0

She sees red. A lot of it! Red hood, red clothes, red wings! Not rust-red, sort of brighter. 

She sees the other-her’s companion next, and she can feel her already large smile widening further over her face. 

Tall. Blunt horns, thoughtful (mildly disgruntled) expression, cloak, and tellingly sign-less shirt. 

You know, she never really knew this guy, even though she was responsible for his death. Maybe they can be friends! 

Damara turns around to get a look at the rapidly approaching trolls, and the smile on her face falls back to its previous scowl. 

“私はね、” she says, and turns away, striding quickly in the opposite direction. Bell-Bringer looks after her for a moment, slightly disappointed. She would’ve loved to talk to her Descendant more, but... 

Looks like her guests have arrived!

\- -

Why.

Why, oh _why_ can’t Seditionist just find the people he’s looking for without getting sidetracked every five fucking minutes?

He just wants to find Apostate, now that Dauntless and Huntress are accounted for. It’s a pretty simple concept! He wasn’t asking for this strange wriggler with curling horns and bona-fide fucking wings and mysterious garb. He wasn’t looking to be asked countless questions about his culture and other things that don’t really matter now that he’s dead, and yet here he is. _Here he is_ , trying his best to humor this girl without seeming like an asshole because not only is she apparently one of wriggler-him’s friends, she’s actually pretty nice, and he does not want to be the guy to snap and ruin her good time.

But. He is ever-so-slowly running out of patience. He has one of his _own_ to account for, God damn it.

“Are you looking for somebody?”

The innocence of the question, so different from the passion in her voice from before, is enough to catch Seditionist’s attention. 

“Yes,” he answers. Will that be enough to appease her now?

“Can I ask who?”

Apparently not.

Seditionist sighs out of his nose. He’s walking aimlessly, and the girl keeps pace with him easily, not walking, but flying, _what is with all of these people who can fly_ , and he deliberates a few moments before he gives in.

“The person who culled me,” he says, and the girl lets out a little “Oh.”

“I can understand that,” she says, “but you’re not going to get any revenge. No offense, but I don’t think you have the power to double-kill someone!”

What is this wriggler even talking about. “Why in the hell would I want to kill my culler? Sure, he was an asshole sometimes, but he was _nice_.”

“Um. Because he killed you?”

Seditionist stops to give the girl a stare. Both of their eyebrows are raised in similar looks of incredulity.

“ _Cull_ ,” Seditionist repeats. “I said _culled_ , not _killed_.”

“Yeah, I know. Those two words are synonymous with each other, you don’t have to repeat them!”

More incredulous staring. “I don’t know where you grew up,” Seditionist says, “but where I come from, those two words are most definitely _not_.” 

“Oh?” The wriggler hovers a little closer. “Because where I come from, they are.”

“You must have grown up in one fucked up place, then.”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “It was okay.” There’s a moment of silence. Peace. Quiet. And then the troll remembers her previous line of inquiry and Seditionist gives a mental groan. “So you’re looking for the person who culled you, whatever that means where you come from? I can help you find him if you want.”

Seditionist considers it. For exactly two seconds. When (if) he finally meets up with Apostate, it’s just gonna be a whole lot of emotions, and he does not want this wriggler to be present for that.

“No.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help? I promise it’d be a lot easier with me!”

“I appreciate the offer, but yes, I’m sure. Please do not ask me again.”

“Okay.”

Oh, hey. Finally, another adult. 

_Fuck, she is literally the same person as this wriggler, Seditionist is never going to escape. ___

__Her long, curly hair falls heavily around her shoulders. Her dress is a deep red, a slit opening up on one leg, and a silver chain rests over her hips. Seditionist registers all this and her wide smile only second-hand, though, as he takes in the bells hanging off of string on her horns, three on each side._ _

__“Karkat!” she waves, and Seditionist takes a full step back on instinct. “It’s great to finally meet you!”_ _

__“This,” Seditionist says, “is not possible. You’re a fucking _ghost_ story, for God’s sake. ‘Ooooh, don’t go out during the day or the Bell-Bringer will take your soul and eat of your flesh, make sure to eat your vegetables, oooh.’ You’re not real!”_ _

__“But I am.” She tilts her head to the side slightly, still smiling. Holy cheeseballs. “And those stories are inaccurate representations of what I actually do. I’ve never even eaten troll meat once! I mean,” she waves a hand dismissively, “if you don’t count that _one_ time. But that was an accident, I swear.”_ _

__“I’ve never met you before.” Stay calm stay calm stay _fucking_ calm. “How do you know my name?”_ _

__“I have my ways,” she says, wiggling her fingers ominously in Seditionist’s direction. She raises her hands up to her temples, a look of distraction coming across her face. “And, oh, the spirits, I can hear them, they’re, they’re telling me...” She leans toward the wriggler at Seditionist’s side. “ _You’re_ me!”_ _

__“You are,” the wriggler says, smiling back just as widely. “I am! I’ve met a lot of other mes but you’re. You’re different!”_ _

__“Nice wings,” the living horror story says, pointing to the red monstrosities on the wriggler’s back. “How’d you get them?”_ _

__“I died,” she says cheerfully. “It was pretty awesome. I’m Aradia, by the way!”_ _

__“That’s funny,” says the troll that Seditionist has seen wrigglers cry over thinking she would come to eat them, a feigned look of shock on her face. “My name is Aradia, too!”_ _

__They both devolve into a fit of laughter, clutching at their sides, almost howling._ _

__Seditionist doesn’t even try to pretend to not be scared shitless. He absconds the fuck out of there before either of the two can notice that he's gone._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bell-Bringer is such a sweetie ~~when she isn't killing people~~ what you heard nothing
> 
> If you'd like a description of any outfits, just ask and i'd gladly oblige to respond! :D
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	8. Karkat, Terezi, Terezi*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat, Terezi, and Terezi*, requested by Loria_in_eternity. In which the same people make two very different self-discoveries.

This is what Karkat has been reduced to: drawing shitty pictures on the ground with half-chewn sticks of chalk as the insane blind girl at his side criticizes his drawing ability. 

“Does it even _matter_ if it’s lopsided?” he says, pointing to the misshapen red circle because of course she wouldn’t give him any of the other colors. “We’re in a _dream bubble_. The likelihood of us ever finding this again is pretty much none. If you’re going to be picky, do it on the meteor!”

“But what if someone else were to stumble on the scene once we wake up?” Terezi draws in a huge breath before wiping away half of Karkat’s circle. “It needs to be perfect! I will not stand for anything less than your best. Now stop being lazy and get to it, Karkles.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles, and then gets back to work. The amount of effort he puts into getting the circle perfectly round is painstaking. Not a speck of dust is out of place. By the time he’s done with it he’s willing to call himself the circle-making _master_. He stands back to admire it. Perfect.

Terezi licks a long, slobbering line through the chalk, smearing everything horribly, and Karkat screeches.

“ _WHAT THE HELL!_ I worked forever on that! I put my sweat and blood into that, I- what the fuck did you do that for! You’re the reason I was doing it in the first place!” Terezi falls flat on her side, cackling.

“The look on your face! I could smell it from here, it was amazing!”

He manages to not screech this time. But he can’t help the enraged clicking at the back of his throat. “You’re _evil_ ,” he says. “You were going to do that the _entire grubfucking time_ , weren’t you?!”

“Oh Karkles, you know me so well!”

_“Stop calling me that!”_

“Hehehehe- wait.” Terezi sits up. She turns her nose to the air. “Is that. _Cherry_ I smell?”

“Of fucking course it is, you just licked a _perfect circle_ of the stuff--”

“I smell cherry,” she says, “and _danger_.”

Karkat stares as Terezi hauls herself to her feet. 

“Danger.”

“It’s like sweat and adrenaline,” she says dismissively. “And it is _approaching_.”

Well, fuck.

Karkat moves to Terezi’s side, facing the direction she’s in. He can’t hear or see anything, but that doesn’t really mean much. A few moments of silence pass.

“They’re coming,” Terezi whispers, and Karkat keeps his Sylladex at the ready.

And then he sees the strangers horns.

And then he sees the rest of them.

Adult Terezi? Wearing really revealing clothes like what the hell she’s barely even wearing anything and what she is is so glaringly _red_ and _why are those shorts so small there is literally nothing being left to the imagination here oh my God._

_He can see her fucking grub scars._

He’s really glad that Terezi isn’t facing him because his face is probably the color of brick and that would be. So embarrassing. Things are already weird enough between the two of them and he doesn’t need the lingering remnants of his obsessive crush to make that any worse.

Terezi holds out a hand palm-first.

“Halt, imposter!” she says. “State your name and business before the court!”

“Oh man,” Adult-Terezi says, and her voice is so Terezi and yet not and it makes Karkat’s head spin. A look of glee comes over Adult-Terezi’s face. “Oh my God oh my God I can’t believe it this is fuckin’ _radical_! Little Karkat, come here!”

Karkat starts at his name. “What? No!” 

She holds up her hands in a grabbing motion. “Come ooooooon!” She takes a step forward, and Karkat takes an equally-as-big step back. Or, tries to. Adult-Terezi’s legs are _long_ and _no don’t think about that right now she’s probably about to try to eat you._

 _“Fuck_ no!”

“You’re adorable,” she says. “Let me. Squish. Your cheeks!”

“Get your creepy adult hands away from me you-- FUCK!”

Karkat, of course, trips.

Adult-Terezi descends upon him like some barkbeast from the depths of hell. Her figure looms above him and she was already so much taller than him when he was standing; her very adult height triggers centuries of fear instinct, and even as he freezes still the only thing he can think is: _oh my God there are so many **curves**. _

She leans down, claws outstretched, and Karkat prepares to die.

She is--

_literally squishing his cheeks what the hell._

“Wow,” she says. “Damn, son! Whoo, that is some major trippin’ you’re doing, you need to chill the fuck out, I can barely even hear what you are and I can tell you’re just one big hen.” Her mitts are still on his face. Of all the things that could have happened here, _why did it have to be this?_

“Ahem!” Terezi clears her throat. “As amusing as this is to watch, I would appreciate it if you would release my companion before he dies of discomfort.”

“Shit, man.” Adult-Terezi detaches herself instantly. Karkat wastes no time standing up and distancing himself from her, taking his place beside Terezi again. “All you had to do was say somethin’!”

Terezi speaks before Karkat can. “ _You_ , Miss Cranberry, have still not told us who you are!” She swings around her cane and points it at the adult. “I look forward to hearing your testimony.”

“This is so rad,” the adult says. “First there’s little Sed and now there’s little me. Hella!”

Sed? Is she talking about...

Oh--”God fucking dammit,” Karkat curses, half-whispering so that only Terezi can hear him. “Of course she would know weird adult me.”

“The one you were telling me about earlier?” Terezi whispers back, and he nods. “And judging by what I can smell of her appearance, she must be adult me, then. How interesting!”

“I don’t just know ‘im,” the adult says, interrupting them, and Karkat doesn’t know how she heard him when he was _actually fucking whispering for once_. “He’s my fucking diamond, bro!”

Terezi breaks out into a cackle, and Karkat can only stare.

“Karkles,if I ever end up pale with you,” Terezi says, planting her hands onto his shoulder and looking at him with an intensity that would make him think she could see if he didn’t know better, “ _kill me.”_

“Oh my God,” Karkat says. “I would but I’d probably kill myself, first.”

“Hey, don’t hate,” Adult-Terezi breaks in. “Sed and I are fuckin’ radawesome palemates.”

“I’m sure you are,” Karkat says, rolling his eyes. “Now would you please tell me your Title so I can stop referring to you as adjectives in my head?”

“Gladly! Authority Dauntless, at your service, wrigglers.” She does a bow.

“Dauntless,” Terezi repeats, a grin wide on her face. “I like your style, Dauntless! Very tasty color scheme.”

“Tasty?” There’s a slight look of confusion on Dauntless’s face. “I don’t get how that makes sense, but sure, babe.”

There’s a few moments of silence.

“You mean you can’t-”

“I am blind!” Terezi says, interrupting Karkat. Her voice is quick and clipped, matter-of-fact. “My lusus taught me to see by tasting and smelling color. I will assume by the smell of confusion that you are not as ocularly challenged.”

“Uh...no,” Dauntless says. “My peepers are just fine. _Buuuut,_ ” she continues, “I was born with a weird thing that means I can’t feel touch. Nothin’ good or bad. Lusus taught me how to hear the things I touch before I could get culled.”

“Is _that_ why you insisted on rubbing your hands all over my face?” Dauntless winks at Karkat. “Fuck, that’s almost as bad as when Terezi licks me!”

“You know you like it, Karkles.”

“Like fuck I do-- hey, don’t you fucking dare, Pyrope!” Karkat shoves Terezi away from where she was leaning in dangerously close to his face. Terezi cackles again.

“Hey, sister,” Dauntless breaks in, sounding oddly thoughtful. “D’you mind if I try somethin’?”

Terezi considers for a moment. “Depends on what it is.”

Dauntless grins, and shrugs. “Just need you to hold out your hands.” Dauntless holds out her own hands in in front of her as demonstration. Terezi complies after a moment.

When Dauntless starts walking forward, her hands still outstretched, Karkat backs _waaaay_ the fuck up. He’s not going to give her the opportunity to grab him like that again. She doesn’t even make a move for him, though. Instead, she just gently takes ahold of one of Terezi’s hands, and lightly brushes their skin together.

Dauntless makes a thoughtful noise.

“Interesting,” she says, more of a mutter than anything else. “Of all the things... I guess it fits.” 

Terezi lifts Dauntless’s hands up to her nose, inhaling deeply. She smiles. “You, Older-Me, smell absolutely delicious!”

“Well I’d hope so, sister!” She winks at Karkat, and takes a couple steps back, waving a hand up. “I’ll see ya peeps laterz, yeah? I gotta tell Sed about this shit!”

“Goodbye, Miss Cranberry!” Terezi waves back.

Karkat stares helplessly down at the spot where his circle once lay and slowly shakes his head.

_Pyropes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop, sorry it took so long this time :/
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	9. Rose, Kanaya*, Kanaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose, Kanaya, and Kanaya*, requested by Loria_in_eternity. In which some things aren't learned.

"Rose? I don't understand what is so urgent."

"Neither do I. All I know is that it’s important. We're supposed to be here for a reason." Rose could only hope that her statement would be enough to satisfy Kanaya. She honestly doesn't know what’s driving her to be here; it could be described as nothing more than a _feeling_ , driving her every step forward. As she moves, the feeling begins to get stronger.

She's getting close.

The lights of the Dersite towers cast a lavender glow over everything, turning edges soft. As Rose walks forward, the feeling _tugs_ , and she makes a sharp right into an intersecting hallway.

Rose is stopped in her steps by Kanaya's hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," Kanaya breathes, and Rose stills her own breathing, tilting her head to the side to listen. She hears nothing, at first, until she does.

There. Just barely. Shallow, ragged breathing.

"Someone else is here," Rose says. Kanaya nods. "How interesting." 

With a glance, Kanaya releases Rose's shoulder, and they both begin to move forward, Kanaya much more silently than Rose. Slowly, they advance upon a niche in the purple walls, and Rose peers in.

What she sees surprises her, to say the least.

She looks like Kanaya, except not; she's hunched over herself, her face cradled in shaking hands, and she would appear to be crying if only Rose could see any hint of jade tears. Her hair isn’t disheveled so much as no effort of any kind was put into it, containing none of the care that Kanaya gives to it every day. Her dress, or what Rose can see of it, is torn in some places.

No. Rose can not see this as Kanaya at all, for all this stranger shares her horns, and when she looks up, her face.

"Leave," she says, with a voice not unlike Rose's matesprit. "I am tired of impossible things."

"Are you alright?” Kanaya asks, her voice smooth, but when Rose glances back she can see her palming her lipstick, a nervous tell that Rose has noticed before. 

“No. And that’s how it should be. What do you want?”

“We were just walking by,” Rose says. It’s at least the half-truth, even if she is leaving out some things. “My name is Rose.”

“Kanaya.” Kanaya nods as she introduces herself, and the adult’s hands twitch.

“What?”

“My name,” Kanaya says. “My name is Kanaya Maryam.”

The adult laughs once. There’s no humor in it. “Hireling was right,” she says. “I’m only becoming more unstable as time passes. I would ask if you’re just a hallucination but I’m guessing you would say no.”

“I would certainly hope I’m not a hallucination,” Rose says. “Otherwise I’m in for one hell of an identity crisis.”

"Karkat had said something about meeting his pre-scratch self in the dream bubbles," Kanaya says, mostly to Rose, “as well as Terezi. This may be assuming things, but perhaps this is me.”

That…would certainly be interesting, wouldn’t it?

The adult freezes as Kanaya speaks, before slowly drawing in a breath and breathing out. She clenches and unclenches her fists, looking down at him. “So he’s here after all,” she says quietly. “I had hoped… I don’t know what I’d hoped.”

“Who is here?” Rose questions, aware that she’s prying, but she can feel the balance of things slowly tipping in her mind’s eye, and she lets her gut decide what to say for her. “Karkat?”

“The one I knew, perhaps.” The adult sounds distant. “And Dauntless too, it would seem. But that still doesn’t explain you two.”

“Rose is an alien,” Kanaya says. “You and I are, how do I put this, simply different versions of one another. Essentially we’re the same people.”

The adult sits up, unfolding herself. As she does her arms fall to her side, and Rose sees the hole in her stomach. It’s almost an exact mirror of Kanaya’s, but for that it’s bare and uncovered, and the green of her blood still stains the dress. It looks, if nothing else, incredibly painful, and Rose can feel Kanaya wince at her side. Rose takes her hand without a word.

“The same person,” the adult says wonderingly. “It’s embarrassing how easily I can believe it. I hope you knew to live a happier life than mine.”

“I have,” Kanaya says. “I still am. My matesprit has helped with that, of course.” She pulls Rose closer a little, and Rose complies with the request. 

“A matesprit. Good- good for you, child, I’m- I’m happy you managed it. I would tell you my story, but…” The adult smiles slightly, sadly. “I am afraid I wouldn’t make it halfway through the telling. You’re lucky you caught me while I can still think clearly.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rose says suddenly, “but we’re going to be waking up soon.” She can feel it, the strange lightness in her head, the few seconds of precognition that her Aspect allows her. 

“If I may ask-“ Kanaya says hurriedly, “What is your Title?”

“Child,” the adult says, her sad smile falling completely, “I think it best that you don’t know.”

Before Kanaya can protest, they’re gone, woken up in the meteor. Rose takes Kanaya’s hand immediately, squeezing as hard as she can. 

“What happened to her, Rose?” Kanaya whispers. “She looked broken. She’s me and she’s broken.”

Rose says nothing for a moment, instead choosing to hug Kanaya to her chest. Kanaya wraps her arms around her waist, as tight as she dares to with her strength. 

Rose doesn’t know.

She hopes she doesn’t find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shortness and weird melodromatic-ness. Hopefully it still got the message across, yeah?
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	10. Karkat*, Kanaya*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat* and Kanaya*, requested by HeresyIncarnate. In which nothing is said at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:

In these strange death bubbles, Seditionist finds the one person he’d hoped he’d never have to see again.

Desolate looks at him with an expression of great pain, her eyebrows drawn, eyes wide. She doesn’t run. She stands her ground.

There was a time when all Seditionist could do was imagine every possible scenario where he met Desolate again. In one he would track her down, in another he would find her on accident, in yet another she would find him and try to apologize. Sometimes someone else would bring her to him. Sometimes he would discover the news of her death, or find her body for himself.

In every single one of those nightdreams, he never got far enough to imagine what it is he would do. Now, it’s too late. She’s standing here before him, with the wound that probably killed her still dripping green, in the plainest dress he’s ever seen her wear.

It’s real, this situation, not imagined this time, and he has no idea what he’s going to do.

He knows what Dauntless would do. Dauntless had described it in great detail, when they were still alive, what she would do if “that bitch ever sets foot near you again I swear to God Sed,” and it would take hours for him to calm her down. 

He’s not Dauntless. He’s Seditionist, he’s _Karkat_ , and right now he has no grubfucking clue what that means.

From the way Desolate stands, from the way she’s so obviously making herself look him in the eye, not running, she’s waiting for him to make the first move. _Do it_ , her eyes are saying, terrible and empty, _I deserve it_ , but he doesn’t know what to _do_.

It’s hard to describe it, the way he feels. He knows how it sounds, he knows the way Dauntless described it when she held him; _like thunder, babe, almost too far to hear, it’s so quiet._ And it makes sense, in a weird way.

Desolate, because of her seeming _inability_ to find an auspistice when she should have, was responsible for the death of his kismesis and the death of his culler. Because of her, Dauntless had been a wreck, and Seditionist isn’t sure if he ever really managed to help pick up her pieces completely. Her inaction ruined so many lives, possibly so much more than she could ever realize.

His hatred for this woman runs cold and deep, like iron down to his bones. 

He will not waste his words on her.

Seditionist shakes his head. _They both hated you so much,_ is all he can think. _Dauntless and Apostate, both. They were more than you deserved._

He walks past her, away, trying to calm the shaking in his fists, and he doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0u0
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	11. Feferi*, Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feferi* and Karkat, requested by domesticsemelady. In which advice is given.

Phosphor never had many opportunities to talk with her matesprit’s kismesis. When she had, though, it was always certain to be memorable. For all he hardly ever wasted words, he’d had a lot to say, and always about things that hardly anyone else thought to question. She wishes she’d had more time. She wished _he’d_ had more time, before they’d found him dead. Phosphor had tried her best to make Beforus a fair place, but it was always hard to tell how things really worked when you were the one on the throne. He would have helped her change things for the better, she thinks.

Which is why it’s so interesting to see this wriggler who looks so much like him, for all he acts so differently.

“How the fuck is it that I’m the only one to keep running into all these fucking adults!” he practically shouts. “Let me guess, you’re Beforan Feferi. Let’s play a game called “Guess the Title”! Is it Her Inspiring Complacence? No? Her Majestic Kindness?”

“Her Benevolent Phosphorescence, actually,” she admits, and the wriggler produces a strange combination of a scream and a growl in the back of his throat, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes are still a wriggler gray, she notes. He still _has_ eyes.

“If we’re going to be following this _amazing_ fucking pattern that the universe seems to have set up for us, I’m going to guess that you knew adult me in some way, shape, or form. Goes by the Seditionist and has absolutely no taste when it comes to quadrants?”

“I’ve talked to him before, yes.” she says. And then, “We were quadrant corners.”

The look on the wriggler’s face is certainly amusing, if nothing else.

“Okay,” he says, and he swallows. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t insult your quadrants by association, there.”

She smiles, close-lipped, careful not to show any teeth. He’s so young. “What’s your name, wriggler?” she asks gently.

He stands a bit straighter, the change slight enough that Phosphor doesn’t think he realizes he’s doing it. “Karkat Vantas,” he says, “which you probably already knew from adult-me since you were quadrant corners.”

“Indeed.” She folds to the ground, sitting cross-legged, and she can see Karkat blink in surprise in the corner of her vision. She doesn’t look at him, though, instead rifling her hands through the faint pressure of her Sylladex until she finds what she needs. “Where is...ah, here we are.” 

The notebook is small. The notebook is old. The notebook has given her comfort more times than she’d care to count.

She holds it out to the wriggler shifting uncertainly on his feet, along with the silver pen in her other hand.

He takes them both from her slowly, side-eyeing her like he suspects she’ll, not quite strike, but do _something_. She carefully doesn’t move, and when he finally holds the notebook firmly in his hands, she draws her arms back. “Open it,” she suggests, and he does.

He opens it to the first page, and his eyebrows draw together. Phosphor can imagine what he sees; rows and rows of notes written in a rainbow of shades, signed in scrawling letters by too many different hands to count. But she did anyway. She has never once let herself forget.

Karkat flips to the most recent page, toward the back, where there is still space left. She pictures the words written there, in almost illegible chicken-scratch: 

dont ever forget how to smile, cuttlefish :33  
<3 nepcat

It has been hard, sometimes, but she’s managed. She’s always remembered to smile when it counts.

“What-- Why are you showing me this?” Karkat is confused as he looks away from the notebook and at you, that much is obvious. 

“Beforus was very focused on the arts,” she says, looking up at the void that makes up the sky. “Perhaps too much so. We advanced more in things that had to do with creation than destruction. Some called such developments trivial.” She wonders if there’s anything beyond there, or if it’s just infinite nothing that would swallow her up in a heartbeat. “If you press the button on that pen, it will change its ink to the exact shade of your blood. Go ahead, it doesn’t hurt.”

There’s a moment of silence where she can tell he hesitates, before there’s the near-silent chirp of the pen as it scans through his skin. She had it explained to her how it works, a long time ago, by the troll who invented it. Farriery had been a genius.

Farriery had been nothing without Huntress.

She brushes away from the thoughts, lest they manifest, and instead draws her gaze away from the sky and back down to the wriggler. The grip of the pen has changed from a neutral gray to a bright red, and Karkat holds it tightly, as if trying to cover as much of the color with his hand as possible.

Phosphor, ever one for courtesy, ignores it.

“I don’t know much,” she says. “Most of what you see is acting, and lifetimes of practice at it. Everything else, the things that matter...” She nods toward the notebook, careful of her horns. “I’m old,” she continues. “It’s easy for me to lose my perspective on things. This helps me keep it.”

“So what...”

“What do you think is most important, Karkat?” she asks. “What do you never want yourself to forget, in the darkest times?”

dont ever forget how to smile

Phosphor can see the exact moment he understands. It’s the same look that Seditionist had worn, when she’d asked him oh so long ago. He looks from her to the notebook, bewilderment written into the wideness of his eyes. She wonders if he’ll protest.

“You’re asking _me_ ,” he says, “as if I have something worthwhile to say that none of these assholes bothered to write down.”

She nods. “Yes.”

He draws in a breath. “Well. Your corpse party, I guess.” 

He brings the pen down, writes, and he’s done.

He hands it back to her with a thoughtful look on his face. Even if she hadn’t seen him older, she would still be able to see the troll he’ll grow up to be, in the set of his shoulders. “I don’t know if it’ll mean anything to you. Whatever. I gave it a fucking shot.”

“Thank you.” 

“I--” He cuts off at the sound of a voice from far back, carrying the faint suggestion of his name. There’s a human standing far enough away that even Phosphor can barely see him, and his red clothes stick out like a sore thumb.

“Oh my fuck, _what_.” He cups his hands to his mouth and calls out deafeningly loudly, _“I’LL BE RIGHT THERE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE._ It’s like I can’t get any time to myself any more, Goddamn. I should go see what he wants.” 

“Don’t let me keep you.”

“Yeah. See ya.” 

She waves as he runs off, watching until he catches up with his friend. It’s only until he’s long out of sight that she opens the notebook still in her hands. She reads it from the beginning.

When she gets to the end, she can’t help but smile.

No. She don’t think she’ll be forgetting this one for a while.

She Captchalogues the notebook, and stands, and moves on, letting her feet take her where they will.

\- -

IT’S *OK* TO FUCK UP EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, AS LONG AS YOU DO YOUR BEST TO FIX IT.  
\- THE BETTER VANTAS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Feferi* and Kankri, but unfortunately I don't really have the energy to write Kankri atm (which is a lame excuse, I'm sorry) so until then, I'm officially taking requests again!! Sorry for the long wait; i've been having computer issues.
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	12. Dave, Terezi, Gamzee*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave, Terezi, and Gamzee*, requested by CircleCautious and Thus. In which Dave isn't the only one who's confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for both the long wait and the shortness. A few little announcements at the end. :)

Dave is pretty sure he’s dreaming.

Well, of course he’s fucking dreaming, that kind of defines what dream bubbles even are. It’s like ordering spicy Buffalo Wings and being surprised that they make your nose run when you bite into them, because they’re just that damn spicy. 

Mmm. He misses Buffalo Wings.

Whatever; case in point, Dave is dreaming and so is Terezi and he’s kind of flipping off the handle at the same time that he’s trying to keep Terezi from flipping off the handle, which is a giant red flag that he’s probably way in over his head here. TZ is the chillest chick he knows, and seeing her all tense can’t be a good thing.

“Mister Grape Soda,” she says, all clipped and taught, and Dave blinks behind his shades and looks at the strange troll in front of him a little more closely. He’s only ever heard TZ refer to one troll with that nickname, so he’s going to take a guess and say that this is Gamzee.

Except. That seems kind of impossible. Because the Gamzee Dave has heard about sounded nothing like this.

This troll is tall, with curly hair falling to his shoulders, and spiralling horns, which sounds about right. He’s wearing a snazzy purple vest over a snazzy white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a snazzy pair of black pants, which doesn’t sound right at all.

He’s also dead.

“Uh,” the troll says, and then “Um,” and then he slaps himself in the face a couple times. When it becomes apparent to him that he’s not tripping balls, he begins to mutter something to himself while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So,” Dave whispers to Terezi. “Is this who I think it is?”

“It smells like him,” she whispers back, “but he smells different, too. Cleaner.”

Dave raises an eyebrow at her, even though he knows she can’t see it. She raises an eyebrow back.

“For example,” she whispers, and then raises her voice, “he is not wearing his paint!”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about me, little Pyrope look-alike,” the troll says, and he scratches his scalp under his hair, a corner of his mouth turned down in confusion. “I don’t really get what you mean by ‘paint’, but if you say so.”

Terezi’s mouth actually fucking drops.

“You okay TZ?” Dave says, and Terezi closes her mouth with a _click_. 

“Interesting,” she says, and then, “the Mirthful Messiahs are nothing more than hogwash, and an absolute disgrace as a religion. Every member is a pan-damaged idiot who needs to be culled!”

“Hey,” the troll says. And then he smiles. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Holy shit,” Terezi says, and puts a hand to her forehead. “Dave, I’m afraid I might be seriously in need of medical attention.”

“Oh shit, call the doctor.” Dave is not hiding his confusion behind a deadpan, no he is not. “What the hell is wrong with you now?”

“Who are you?” Terezi asks, and Dave guesses that she’s not asking him so he keeps quiet. The strange troll blinks.

“Well, most trolls call me by Apostate, since it’s my Title. Some call me Gamzee, though. And you are?”

“...Terezi Pyrope,” TZ says slowly, and the other troll - Apostate, what the fuck kind of name is that - actually takes a step back.

“Oooohh,” he says, and “noooo,” which combines to make a very good “Oooohh noooo.” Dave is impressed. “Well, fuck. Little-Dauntless. Haha, hello.” Apostate looks nervous, and he takes another small step back. 

“Something the matter?” TZ asks innocently, and Apostate takes, yes you guessed it, another step back.

“Nnnnoooo,” he says, which isn’t suspicious at all. “I just remembered. I. Have. I was looking for someone! So I better get back to that, nice meeting you.”

Apostate backtracks the fuck out.

“Those are some nice absconding skills,” Dave notes. “Like, damn, he really wanted to get the fuck away from here. Mark me down as impressed.”

“Hmm.” Terezi hums contemplatively, a small little frown on her face. “He seemed to be afraid of me.” She turns to Dave. Wow, that’s a lot of fucking teeth in that smile. “I like it.”

The worst part is Dave still wants those Buffalo Wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to be a little more selective in the requests I choose for a couple reasons; Some of them are, frankly, too difficult, and there are also a *lot* more of them than I expected in the first place. I'm gonna have to ask that if you request, please choose one meeting and stick with it. If there's an "or" involved anywhere it makes it a lot harder for me to choose and things don't get done. :/ Sorry. And, also, there has to be at least one Beforan Ancestor involved.
> 
> Also! Because I am weak, I made an rp account for Seditionist on Flarping. If you frequent that place you'll have seen me there. Haha, woops. You can check it out [here](http://flarping.com/profile/seditionist) if you're interested in that sort of thing. ALSO, if rping as one of the other Beforus Ancestors along with me sounds like something you'd be interested in, drop me a line! Tavros* has been taken but all of the rest are wiiiide open.
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	13. Eridan*, Kanaya, Rose, Karkat*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose, Kanaya, Annalist, and Seditionist, as requested by randomPasserby. In which two friends meet again and Kanaya learns the truth.

The little Desolate-looking wriggler is still side-eyeing Annalist with distrust, her weird alien matesprit grasping a hand in hers. Annalist doesn’t get who she thinks she is, looking at him like that when she was the one who ran into _him_ , but he’s not so stupid as to actually say any of that out loud.

Really fucking interesting, though.

“For the thousandth time,” he grits out, “will you let me pass? I’m kind of in the middle of something, here!”

The alien, dressed in oranges and yellows, whispers something in the young troll’s ear. She relaxes her stance, just slightly, and smooths out her shirt.

“My...apologies,” she says, and Annalist startles at how much she sounds like Desolate, looks like her. He almost expected it, somehow, but. It’s still surprising. And suspicious. “You just. Reminded me of someone, I’m afraid.”

“Someone by the name of Eridan Ampora,” the alien offers smoothly, and Annalist narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” he returns, “you’re not exactly strange to me, either. The name Kanaya Maryam ring any bells?”

“Quite.” She smiles, a quick flash of teeth. “The name would be mine.”

“Huh.” He tilts his head to the side, considering her. His fingers twitch.

Oh, well, damn. Guess it can’t wait.

He snorts when Kanaya stiffens as a large book appears in his hands, called from the depths of his memory. Took a long time, to get used to how these weird death-spaces work, but he thinks he does alright. He remembers up a pen -- and alright, maybe that was a bit flashy but he’s been saving up that trick for _sweeps_ , dammit -- and neatly writes out the letters of her name.

“Sweeps?”

“I-- what?”

Annalist gestures with a hand. “Sweeps, how many, how old are you come on.”

“I’m seven, but--”

“Seven, alright, you look it. Virgo, Jadeblood, although that’s fucking obvious. To start off, why don’t you tell me where you--”

“ _Excuse_ the interruption, Mister Ampora” Kanaya breaks in, “but why exactly are you needing to know any of this?”

“Annalist,” he supplies, and continues on when she just raises an eyebrow. “It’s my Title, and also my job, _hence_ the Title, so excuse me if I’m trying to record a bit of info on a wriggler who looks like and maybe is one of my old friends.”

“You were friends with her?” the alien asks, her eyes squinted a little. Maybe in thought. Who knows, aliens are fucking weird. “We ran into her, a little while ago.”

“She was rather distraught.” Kanaya manages to say it evenly, but her lips purse and betray her concern. 

“Ah, shit.” Annalist grimaces at his book before it disappears from his hands, back to wherever it goes when it’s not holding a place in his conscious thoughts. He hadn’t been able to find Desolate again, after the wriggler who looked so much like Seditionist had ruined everything. “How bad was it?”

“Not...too bad,” Kanaya says slowly, although it sounds more like a question. Shit. Again. “We weren’t able to talk to her for long.She was...”

“She was very sad,” the alien finishes.

Sounds about right.

Maybe they remember where they last saw her. Can point him in the right direction. Annalist opens his mouth to ask, when--

something in his pocket pings.

He stands still for a moment, mouth open, when the something pings again, and Annalist scrambles for his pocket.

There are words on the screen of his phone, beautiful words, and he stares for a moment, just grinning like an idiot.

\-- contraryGenome [CG] began pestering curorArbitrary [CA] \--

CG: Holy shit. You are actually in fucking range.  
CG: Hey asshole, if you don’t answer me I’m going to do a thing. I don’t know what this thing is yet but you will not like it. It will be terrible. I will laugh.  
CA: oh my god  
CA: sed is that you  
CG: !!  
CA: holy SHIT  
CG: I know!  
CA: !  
CG: Where the fuck are you? If you’re in range for me to message you then you can’t be too far off.

Annalist looks up to find a landmark, still grinning, because, okay, even if he and Sed hadn’t been _that_ close, they were still pretty good friends, and Annalist hasn’t seen anyone from when he was alive besides Desolate, and he is _damn well allowed to be excited._

CA: i am literally right next to this giant fucking tree  
CG: Like, in a forest, or  
CA: no it is literally this singular fucking tree like wwhat the fuck  
CA: and then there are some purple spire looking things a bit past it  
CG: I think I see it. I’ll be their in thirty fucking seconds.  
CA: *there  
CG: What?  
CG: Oh, shit, thanks.  
CA: no problem just go go go go  
CG: You’re ridiculous.

Annalist slips the phone back into his pocket, still smiling, and is greeted with the confused looks of the alien and K--

Kanaya.

And Seditionist, and Kanaya, and _fuck fuck shit he forgot how did he forget._

“A friend of mine,” Annalist says, “is coming.” He clears his throat. As he says it he looks around, trying to find the familiar figure, until he finally sees it, coming from behind. Just, y’know, in case, he puts himself slightly in front of Kanaya, where Sed won’t be able to see her immediately. Annalist waves.

“Sed!” He calls, and he can hear him laugh.

Sed pulls the hood of his cloak down as he approaches, and it’s a moment of shock to see his eyes blank instead of red - but he’s smiling, and then they’re both hugging, and Annalist just kind of rolls with it.

“You look barely sweeps older than last I saw you,” Sed observes, pulling back to squint at Annalist’s face. “How fucking dare you.”

“Hey, I’m older than you times a billion. Respect your elders.”

“Sure thing, old man.”

Wow-- “That was low. I know you’re short, but that was low.”

“I’m not short, you’re just freakishly tall, coldblood.”

He grins at you, and you grin back. Damn is it good to see him again. You have so much to tell him, about shit that went down after he died.

Someone clears her throat behind you, and Seditionist stiffens when he looks, his expression closing off completely, and oh fucking hell.

“Sed,” Annalist begins, “this is _Kanaya._ ” Annalist motions to her with a hand, “And this is--”

“Rose,” the alien supplies. “Pleased to meet you.”

“They’re not from around here,” Annalist says pointedly, as firmly as he can, hoping Sed gets it. _Please get that they are not the same._

“...Yeah,” Seditionist says after a moment, shoulders stiff, but at least he’s talking. Annalist lets out a little breath of relief. “I’m Seditionist. Call me Sed or whatever.”

“Seditionist?” The alien -- Rose -- says, raising an eyebrow. “The same Seditionist our dear friend Karkat was telling us so much about?”

Annalist can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, himself, even as Sed lets out a snort. 

“Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Interesting,” Rose muses. 

“Am I the only one a little confused over here?” Annalist says. He gets that they’re different, yeah, but he still doesn’t know where they seem to know him or Sed from.

“Alternate timelines,” Rose says. “We know alternate versions of you both quite well.”

That certainly explains some things. Annalist is just considering asking Rose about the version of him they know when Kanaya speaks up.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, looking directly at Sed. “You haven’t looked at me this entire time.”

And he hasn’t. He’s been looking at Rose, or Annalist, or at some vague middle-distance, but Annalist already noticed how Sed was looking everywhere but Kanaya. Even now, he barely manages to meet her eyes for a second before his gaze skitters off to the side again.

“No,” Seditionist says, a little strained. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Kanaya looks at him for a moment longer before asking, “Does it have to do with your version of me?”

Annalist glances between them both pensively, watching for Sed’s reaction. He can’t tell if Sed’s fists are clenched or not, under his cloak, but his lips are thinned, his expression cold. He’s silent for a long time, until he eventually says, “Yes.”

“Oh,” Kanaya says, and is silent herself before she speaks again, and Annalist is shaking his head as covertly as possible before she’s halfway through the question. “Can I ask what it is that happened between you two?”

“What happened?” Sed repeats softly. His face is very blank, unreadable, as he looks off somewhere. The seconds stretch out.

“...I can tell her,” Annalist offers after a while, “you don’t have to--”

“She fell in hate with my moirail,” Sed begins, offhandedly. “And then she fell in hate with my guardian, and neglected to get an auspistice. And because of it, my guardian and my kismesis ended up dead and my moirail was left in pieces.” He says it like he’s commenting on the weather, and Annalist doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all. “The Empress was minus a matesprit and one of my friends minus a moirail, and under Imperial Law 6-3-a, she is guilty for two counts of murder as stated in the Quadrant Crime Act by jury. Or so they say.” He shrugs. “I was always a little too distracted from getting st- back-stabbed by one of my friends to reminder the--” 

Sed pauses. Backtracks. “To _remember_ the logis...” He pauses again. “Remember the lo... The--” Sed frowns. Annalist watches as Sed’s throat works on a word that he can’t quite get out right, and he would supply it but he knows Sed wouldn’t forgive him. Sed is silent for another handful of seconds, his face carefully still. “Excuse me,” he finally says, and then turns around and begins to walk away.

“Sed, wait--”

Annalist barely spares a glance back before he hurries after Sed, trying to keep up, but the look of utter shock and pain on Kanaya’s face is impossible to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! hopefully this particular exposition was worth it.
> 
> ([psst, go check out this other beforus au, it's rad as hell and the story is fucking awesome, gogogo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1503074/chapters/3174608))
> 
>  
> 
> **REQUESTS CLOSED FOR THIS CHAPTER**


	14. Karkat, Nepeta, Karkat*, Nepeta*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nepeta, Nepeta*, Karkat*, and Karkat, requested by "a human who really likes your story" and "hte mallory". In which feelings are had and there are awkward silences abound.

In the end, Nepeta hears them first.

Karkat considers himself pretty fucking done with his and his friend’s Beforus counterparts, and he’s only met _two_ of them, one being himself. But he’s heard enough about the other Eridan and Kanaya and whoever the fuck else might’ve turned up already (he doesn’t remember) so he might as well call himself well and truly spiteful towards the whole thing before he has to go through the trouble of meeting the rest of them.

Nepeta is curious, though, because Karkat was just in the middle of telling her about the newest trolls in the dream bubbles, and, well. It’s not like he’s going to tell her _no_. Knowing her, she'd probably just kick his ass if he tried to stop her and go anyway.

It’s Seditionist. And another troll who looks very, very familiar. And they’re--

Arguing. Of course.

“Maybe we should just go?” Nepeta whispers. Neither of the adults have noticed them yet.

“And miss this?” Karkat whispers back. “Fuck no.”

“Purrfect.”

Seditionist gestures with a hand. “All I’m saying is that you’re a sore loser.”

“All _I’m_ saying is that you don’t want to agree to a rematch because you know you’ll lose.” Not-Nepeta crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one foot and raising an eyebrow.

“See that? That’s a thing sore losers say.” 

They’re both breathing hard, their skin shining slightly with what Karkat thinks is sweat. Seditionist’s cloak is gone, a plain gray shirt in its place, and he’s breathing a lot more raggedly than Not-Nepeta and failing very badly at hiding it. She smirks.

“Aww, did the widdle kitten tire himself out? Was the jog too much fur him? Does he need to go take nappies?”

Seditionist stiffens slightly, and then says, “Hell no. Why, you ready to go another round? Because it looks like you need it. What have you even been doing around here, just sitting around thinking of new ways specifically to piss me off?”

Her expression darkens a little. “Like you were any better. A hundred caegars says that you’ve spent your entire time here moping in your hive feline sorry for yourself.”

It’s then that Karkat realizes that both of them are _posing_.

Hints of teeth have been showing in their scowls, their heads tilted forward ever so slightly. Not-Nepeta has shifted into a full fighting stance, the muscles in her arms corded and flexing as she clenches her fists. Seditionist is full-on bristling, teeth fully bared now. Over the course of this, they’ve both slowly drawn closer and closer together.

They’re _flirting_.

Karkat knows with just one glance that Nepeta has already come to this conclusion, from the deep olive flush staining her face as she very pointedly does not look at him. Karkat glances quickly away as well, trying to ignore the way his own face feels hot.

“You want a rematch?” Seditionist says, almost growling but not quite. “ _Fine_. You’ve got your fucking rematch.”

“ _Excellent_ ,” Not-Nepeta snarls, “then we’ll get to that right after we deal with--” She swivels to face Karkat and Nepeta. “--these two.”

Seditionist turns as well, and blinks.

“Uh-h,” Karkat says eloquently, silently cursing everything in existence because he can still feel the flush on his own face. 

“Hi,” Nepeta manages to say, almost normally, if it wasn’t for the way her voice cracks nicely in the middle.

“Oh,” Seditionist says, and then full-out smiles, which just looks wrong on so many levels that Karkat is pretty sure a universe explodes somewhere. “If it isn’t Karkat. And--” Seditionist’s gaze shifts over to the girl at Karkat’s side. “Nepeta?”

“I thought you were just making things up,” Not-Nepeta says. She smiles at Karkat and Nepeta. “I’m Huntress.”

“And you already know who we are,” Karkat says, “fucking great, glad we got that out of the way so quickly.”

Huntress laughs. She studies Nepeta for a moment, who’s staring right back, and her mouth pulls into a frown. “Are you dead?”

Nepeta nods. And now Karkat is frowning too, great, just bring up Nepeta’s death. Not like that’ll be awkward or anything. Huntress must realize this too, if the way she shakes her head a moment later is anything to go by.

“Sorry. That was kind of rude to ask.”

Seditionist snorts. “Even I knew that.” Huntress rolls her eyes at thhat.

Nepeta shakes her head this time. “It’s not a purroblem. I’m ofur it.” She offers Huntress a hesitant smile. “I like your Title.”

Huntress grins back. “Thanks! I like it, too. Isn’t it--” She stops when her gaze flits over to Karkat, and he glares right back when she squints. “Wait. Are you wearing a sign?”

“I noticed it when we met before, but I didn’t really get a chance to mention it,” Seditionist says, head tilted at a slight angle. 

“Of course I’m wearing a fucking sign, why do you have to look so surprised?”

“Because I never got one.” Seditionist motions down to his blank shirt, eyebrows raised, and Karkat kind of goes _Oh_ in his head before Seditionist continues. “I didn’t think it existed.”

Karkat shrugs. “Apparently it has something to do with my Ancestor I know almost nothing about, or something. It’s supposed to resemble the irons he was strung up with when he was tortured and executed, I don’t fucking know.”

“Oh,” Seditionist says, squinting. “Well, that’s not morbid at all.” 

“You’re telling me.”

“If you two are done with your manpain...” Huntress sits down cross-legged, grinning as she leans forward. “Do you two have any quadrants?”

Seditionist groans. “Oh, Pets, come on, leave the poor wrigglers alone.”

“If it bugs you, you can always leave, Kit.”

Seditionist huffs and crosses his arms, but doesn’t move.

Oh, great. They have pet names for each other. How is Karkat not surprised.

“I have a meowrail,” Nepeta says, the shy smile on her face steadily growing wider.

Huntress oohs. “Who?” She ignores the way Seditionist grumbles _As if you’re going to know them_.

“Equius,” Nepeta says. “Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

“Oh.” There’s an odd look on Huntress’s face. Seditionist rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we’ve heard of him.”

There’s an awkward silence. Karkat glances between the three of them. What the fuck is it now? After a few moments, Nepeta speaks up hesitantly. “Were we...were you not moirails?”

“No, no we were,” Huntress says. “Erm.” She shifts uncomfortably, and then glances at Seditionist, who raises a concerned eyebrow at her. Karkat didn’t even think that was possible. You learn something new every day. “It was just...kind of a secret.”

“Why the fuck was that,” Karkat asks, earning him a couple of reprimanding Looks from Seditionist and Nepeta and an even more uncomfortable one from Huntress.

“Well... He culled me.”

“ _What,_ ” Nepeta splutters, a shocked look on her face. Huntress’s face goes green.

“It doesn’t mean what you think it does,” Seditionist says quickly, and then to Huntress: “It means something a lot different to them in their timeline.” He looks back to Nepeta. “Back on Beforus, it meant--”

“Being forced into the care of some ass-shit who figured they knew better than anyone else,” Karkat helpfully supplies. He rolls his eyes at the odd looks they give him, and then by way of explanation: “Kankri.”

“Ah,” Seditionist says. “But, yeah, Karkat’s pretty much got it right. There are -- were -- a lot of social conventions based around the whole thing. It was uh...really, _really_ looked down upon for a troll and their culler to be in a quadrant. Like, say goodbye to your reputation type of looked down upon.” 

There’s quiet for another moment.

Huntress punches Seditionist in the shin.

“Ow,” he says, “fuck! What was that for?!”

“I don’t need you to speak fur me,” she mutters. Seditionist scowls but doesn’t say anything else, rubbing at his leg before finally sitting down next to her. Huntress takes a breath. “We were pale, yeah. Normally I wouldn’t let other people’s opinions stop me, because people are dumb, but. Equius was in the middle of an important, long-term, _expensive_ project and he couldn’t afford to lose the funding because of the controversy.” Huntress is frowning. “I was the one to suggest we hide it. So we did”

“I’m sorry,” Nepeta offers after a moment. 

“It’s alright.” Huntress smiles a little. “It wasn’t too bad. I had to pretend to be pale with someone else, which was a little uncomfortable at first, but it worked.”

“Really?” Nepeta screws up her face a little. “I can’t even imagine doing that. Who was the other troll?”

Seditionist coughs. Huntress throws him a glare. “Gamzee,” she says.

Karkat chokes.

“Holy shit.” Karkat is too busy coughing to see the look on Nepeta’s face, but the shock in her voice is telling enough. “ _Gamzee_?”

Huntress looks even more uncomfortable now. “Yeah. I take it you know him, too.”

“Is this some sick fucking joke?!” Karkat has caught his breath again, and he’s scowling as hard as he can when the adults’ gaze shifts to him. “Of course she knows him, he’s the piece of shit who _killed_ her!”

“ _Karkaat_ ,” Nepeta hisses.

“What? It’s true!”

“Oh.” Huntress and Seditionist say this at the exact same time, and they glance at each other before Huntress continues on. “I guess some things just don’t change, huh?”

“He...killed you, too? But.” Nepeta’s eyebrows are scrunched up. It’s obvious she’s trying to understand. “You two were purrtending to be pale.”

“It was an accident. I was trying to stop him from making a mistake and I just got in the way.” Huntress is frowning, looking utterly miserable. Karkat almost feels kind of bad for her. “He died not too long after me, apparently.”

More silence.

“Sorry,” Seditionist mumbles after a minute. “I should have stopped you.”

“But you weren’t anywhere nearby,” Huntress protests. “You couldn’t have.”

He continues on reluctantly. “Maryam found me while it was happening. She asked me to try to help and I got there just as you...” He trails off.

Huntress kind of looks like she’s about to cry. “Oh.”

“But that wasn’t what I was talking about. I should have stopped you at the beginning. From hiding it.” Seditionist continues over Huntress when she opens her mouth to protest. “I knew, okay? You really think you could hide something like that from _me?_ I just didn’t say anything because I figured you knew best.” He looks down, rubbing his wrist. “If I’d just spoken up, hadn’t ignored it, I could’ve convinced you to not keep it secret and you wouldn’t have had to get involved in that fight out of some sense of faux-pale obligation. Hell, maybe none of that shit would’ve happened in the first place.”

“Sed--” Huntress breaks off, rubbing her forehead. “You self-pitying _ass_. How long have you been sitting on this?”

“I dunno.” Seditionist shrugs, not looking up still. “A while.”

Huntress huffs out a sigh, the picture of miserable impatience.

“We’ll get going,” Nepeta says quietly. The _it looks like you two have a lot to talk about_ is left unsaid. Huntress looks up and nods. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Definitely.” Huntress smiles a little. “Who knows. Purrhaps we’ll meet again.”

Neither Karkat nor Nepeta say anything until a while after they’ve walked away.

“That was so fucking weird,” Karkat says. “Let’s agree to never talk about that to each other again.”

Nepeta nods, relief evident on her face. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes. what is that?  
> the sweet, sweet smell of an update.  
> hi guys. i missed u.
> 
> i have to clarify this: one of the main reasons i've had trouble writing/updating this is because i have gotten really, *really* into rping Sed. the reason this is a "problem" is because it's given me a chance to develop his character far beyond what i'd managed when i started this, and, by association, a lot of the other characters here too. there are a only a few things different here and there, which wouldn't normally be a big deal, but these little things happen to be very important. so now i've got this idea of these characters whose past/personality varies just enough in my head from this fic that it's difficult to write these guys consistent with what i've shown you. 
> 
> so, yeah,be prepared to think "oh, but they totally weren't like that just a few chapters ago" or "but didn't they say x happened instead of y?" or the like as i update this further. sorry about that :cc i don't regret rping him tho. sed's a total nerd. if you have a flarping account hmu c;
> 
> **REQUESTS OPEN FOR THIS CHAPTER!! :D**

**Author's Note:**

> I am extremely excited to unleash this project upon the world. I have a shipping chart. I have a timeline not unlike the Alternian Ancestors' on the MSPAWiki. All for what?
> 
> This will be an interactive fiction, meaning _you_ get to choose the characters in the next chapter. Do you want to see one of the Beforan Ancestors interacting with one of the kids? One of the Alternian Ancestors? One of the Alpha trolls? Just comment! No character is off-limits. Please specify the Beforan Ancestor of your choosing by marking the name in some way, such as:
> 
> Sollux Captor*, Feferi Piexes, Damara Megido
> 
> Remember, no character (or mix of them) is off-limits, even the ones who probably weren't in the dream bubbles in-canon, like John or Condesce or something, and you're especially welcome to choose two or more of the Beforan Ancestors at the same time. (EDIT: 3-4 max character limit, to keep things simpler, please :) )
> 
> Choose right, and maybe soon we can learn the story behind these trolls we know so little about...


End file.
